


Fondue

by BastetCG, elenathea



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Dance, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Ballet, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masturbation, Performing Arts, Pole Dancing, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 66,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8990779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastetCG/pseuds/BastetCG, https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenathea/pseuds/elenathea
Summary: FonduePronunciation: [fɔ̃dy]Etymology: French, from the verb "fondre" meaning "to melt"A. noun
  a dish in which small pieces of food are dipped into a hot sauce or a hot cooking medium such as oil or broth.
B. verb
  a ballet step in which the dancer brings the working leg in to a coupé as she uses her standing leg to plié.  An Abbreviation for battement fondu.
~Male dancers are not supposed to dance en pointe.  Yuuri knows that.  Everyone knows that.  But he can't help but want to.  He wants to be graceful and beautiful and float across the stage.  And if he can find the confidence to explain that to Viktor, Viktor might just be able to help.Next Update: Mid June





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so! This fic was mostly inspired by the various ballet AU artworks that are floating around twitter recently, and since Elena and I are both retired ballerinas, we literally could not keep our grubby little hands off of it so here is the beginning of a trashy but well researched ballet AU *jazz hands* It's mostly gonna be highly self-indulgent ballet drama and lots of fun couple-y situations, mostly rom-com stuff with a little angst and a lot of spice. Hopefully it'll end up being a good length, currently aiming around 50k. If any of the steps mentioned are confusing, go ahead and skip down to the ending notes for video links that show what the steps look like, and if you have any questions about the AU or ballet in general, please feel free to comment!  
> Merde!

It wasn’t the first time Yuuri had the thought, but never had it been so pressing.

‘Why the hell can’t my anxiety take a fucking vacation?’

He’d managed to cut his losses back in America.  He’d managed to make it through the preliminary auditions and medical checkups.  He was good at what he did.  But he just couldn’t perform well now that the pressure was really on.  He couldn’t joke that he hadn’t actually wanted to be part of the top Russian ballet company, The Russian Prix, that he’d only auditioned on a whim.

 

Not with Viktor Nikiforov sitting there watching him.  Not with Yakov Feltsman and Lilia Baranovskaya staring straight through him, marking down every turned in foot and every vertebra out of place.  Yuuri knew that he wasn’t doing well.  He kept falling out of his turns, failing to make it around for his quad pirouettes, and even his jétes were looking low to the ground and sloppy.  It was frustrating. It was so, so frustrating, but he couldn’t do anything to stop his thoughts from racing.

 

He didn’t need to be thinking about the blisters straining against his canvas shoes right now. He didn’t need to be picturing Celestino’s surprised face right now.  He didn’t need to think about the pointe shoes burning a hole in his dance bag right now.  He needed to focus on relaxing his hands and keeping his pelvis tucked.  But he couldn’t.

 

He stumbled out of a tour en l’air, which he hadn’t even completed.  He watched Lilia jot something down on her paper rather forcefully, and he grimaced.  His hands went stiff again, and he tried so hard to relax them, but he just…it was so hard.  He didn’t need to have a panic attack right now, but that had never stopped one before.  Viktor threaded his fingers together and leaned forward over his clasped hands.

 

Yuri stepped off to the side of the classroom as another younger male began the combination.  Some of the other men had tried to make conversation with Yuuri near the beginning of the audition, but that had stopped when they realized Yuuri could barely speak Russian.  That and he didn’t really want to talk to them.  He was already distracted.  He watched the young blond man nailing his pirouettes and landing softly from his tours.  Yuuri’s hands clenched up even tighter.  This kid couldn’t be more than eighteen, and yet he was dancing with more grace and technical accuracy than Yuuri could ever hope to move with.  He couldn’t bring himself to hate the kid because he was so beautiful it hurt, but at the same time, he cursed his own lack of talent.

 

He’d just have to practice harder.

 

The partnering audition didn’t go much smoother.  Yuuri had approximately seventeen hours total practicing partnering under Celestino’s tutelage, so he wasn’t used to lifting and holding for so long.  One of the girls actually yelped when he took hold of her during pirouettes.  He’d apologized as best he could in English, but he wasn’t sure she understood since she avoided him for the rest of the audition.  To be honest, he was just glad he didn’t drop his partner when they had to do a sit-lift.  In fact, that was the best part of his whole audition, which he hadn’t really expected.

 

And then it was over.  The most stressful day of Yuuri’s life, and suddenly it was over.  Feltsman announced that they’d receive a letter and an email with their schedule should they be chosen for the company.  Yuuri was already heading out of the studio.  The other men were talking to one another or practicing turns.  Yuuri just wanted to get the hell out of the building and hop on a plane and head back home to Japan and never dance again.  As he was leaning over to rip off his shoes, a shadow loomed over him.  He looked up to see the young blond man scowling down at him.

 

Oh no.

 

Yuuri knew that scowl.  He knew it from rumors and email attachments from Yuuko.  It was Yuri Plisetsky, the rising star of the Russian Prix Junior Company.

“Listen buddy,” he spat out at Yuuri, “I don’t know who the hell you are or how you got through all the preliminary auditions, but you might as well just give up now.  Your performances were pathetic.”

 

Yuuri just let his jaw drop.  He knew he was pathetic.  He was almost offended that this little kid felt that he needed to tell him so.  And he _was_ a little kid.  Yuri was fifteen.  Yuuko gushed about how it was only a matter of time before he joined the Senior Company and monopolized all the male solos.  He’d have to tell her that it was happening sooner than she’d expected.  He was so confused and shocked that he couldn’t think of a response before Yuri clicked his tongue in disgust and turned on his heel.  Yuuri watched him go with wide eyes.  He didn’t really know what else to do with himself, so he packed up his things, and he left.  He went home, and he went to bed.

 

He didn’t hear back from the Company for about a week and a half, nor did he really leave his apartment for that time period, except to get groceries.  He’d left Yuuko and his parent’s messages unanswered.  He hadn’t even called Phichit to complain about Western kids and their lack of respect for the elderly.

 

He opened the letter with tears already in his eyes.  There were two versions of the letter, one in Russian and one in English, and each had about four pages to it, so getting the papers out of the envelope was a struggle.  He separated the Russian from the English and sighed sadly.  He knew exactly what it would say.

“We are sorry to inform you that—”

But it didn’t.  It didn’t say that.  Yuuri took of his glasses and quickly wiped them on his shirt, just to be sure he wasn’t mis-seeing the words.

“Congratulations on your admittance to the Russian Prix Company. You have been designated as a rising corps de ballet dancer.”

He shook his head and flipped over the letter to see if maybe there was something on the back that said, “Just kidding!”  He checked to see if the letter was really addressed to him, and there it was, “Dear Katsuki Yuuri,” and he began to really cry.  He didn’t know how he’d managed it.  He didn’t know how this was happening, but it was real.  He’d made it.  He’d really made it.  He flipped the first page of his acceptance letter (His acceptance letter!) to see when he’d be starting.

At about the same time, Yuri Plisetsky was storming into his room, angrier than he usually was.  His cat startled when he slammed the door shut and again when he grabbed her and shoved her under his chin in a forceful hug.

“This is all Viktor’s fault!  Fucking asshole,” he muttered.  When Koshechka gave a very broken meow of protest, Yuri released her, but only to flop backwards onto his bed.  “He promised me,” he whispered.  “That asshole promised me.”

 

At about that same time, Viktor Nikiforov was grinning himself stupid.  Yakov was finally starting to see Viktor’s point.  Yakov sat in front of his desktop, which Viktor had to guess was circa 1993, given its size and boxy shape.  He was rewatching a video from YouTube that Viktor had emailed him about a week ago.  Katsuki Yuuri and a Company mate, Phichit, were messing around and dancing the Harlequin pas de duex from the Nutcracker together.  They were unbelievably good together, and their stiff movements made them look almost unreal, like they were actually clockwork dolls brought to life.  Yuuri’s footwork was impeccable, Viktor noted.  In fact, it might have even been better than his own.

 

“He’s playing Columbine’s part,” Yakov noted.  “As well as he’s dancing here, he won’t be doing many female roles.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Viktor pleaded.  “He was nervous.  I always did terribly at auditions, too.  We’re giving him the chance he needs to stun us.”

“I still can’t believe you convinced me to accept him.”

“He’s my apprentice, so he’ll be my responsibility from now on.  You won’t even need to worry about him.”

“I don’t expect him to move out of the corps anytime soon, understand?  Not until I’m confident he can perform in front of a crowd.”  He paused, looking back at the screen, watching as Phichit and Yuuri took their final pose and began laughing.  “You didn’t happen to find any videos of him actually on stage did you?  It would be a shame if his nerves prevented him from performing in front of an audience.”

“No.  The only videos I could find of him were on his friend’s Instagram and YouTube page.”

“Instagram is that thing that Yuri and Mila are always on, no?”  Viktor nodded, and Yakov clicked on another link, this time of Yuuri doing a petit allegro combination, and executing every beat and jump with frightening energy.

 

Viktor still marveled at how quickly Yuuri could move his feet when he wasn’t focused on being perfect in front of judges.  He’d stumbled on the petit allegro during the audition, fudging most of his beats only because he just couldn’t get high enough in the air for his legs to move like they needed to.  Viktor crossed his arms and leaned down to get a better look.  Yuuri was very good.  His hands were a little stiff, sometimes his thumb would flick out from behind his palm.  His head positioning could be better too, and his spot during turns was sloppy, but he was good.  He showed a lot of promise.

 

But what Viktor was most interested in was his adagio work.  Even during the audition, Yuuri’s movements were languid and mournful in a way that Viktor could not explain.  His hands were still stiff, and his spot was still sloppy, but the way his legs went up and stayed, as if they were floating, and the way his turns moved up his body entranced Viktor.  He was seeing Yuuri’s adagio work in his head, even as he watched Yuuri’s allegro scurry across the computer screen.  He heard the soft piano in his head, even when the quick pace of violins tumbled out of Yakov’s speakers.

 

As if Yakov could hear Viktor’s thoughts, he said, “The adagio video was really something.  Do you know if that was Celestino’s work, or did he come up with it himself?”

“Yuuri and Phichit choreographed that.  It was in the video description.”

“Good, I might steal it to use in my own pieces,” he chuckled.  Viktor rolled his eyes.  “Now, Vitya, just promise me that this little pet project of yours isn’t going to become some strange infatuation.  Your work comes first.”

“But, Yakov,” Viktor smiled, “he will be _part_ of my work!”

“You know what I mean.  I saw the way you were staring at him.  I’m pretty sure _he_ was the only one who didn’t see how you were staring at him.”

“Come off it, Yakov!  I wouldn’t put your company at risk for a boy with no talent.”

“But you aren’t denying the infatuation.”

“Call it what you want,” he grinned.  “He did the work to get here and I’m willing to take a chance on him.  You won’t need to worry about either of us.”

“I always worry about you, Vitya,” Yakov sighed.  “And I worry about Yuri, too.   _Our_ Yuri,” he clarified.  “What was he thinking auditioning so young?  He had to have known he wouldn’t make it.”

 

Viktor was too distracted by the newest video playing on Yakov’s computer to respond.  It was another of Phichit and Yuuri partnering one another.  Yuuri was once again in the female position, doing rapid pace fouetté turns, whipping his leg out, and pulling it back in just before it could knock into Phichit’s knee.  It was very nicely done, very feminine, even if Yuuri was clearly a man.  Viktor felt his lips twitch into a smile as he watched it, mimicking Yuuri and Phichit’s laughter in the video.  His smile dropped when Phichit grabbed Yuuri around the waist and nuzzled into his neck.  The video ended, and Viktor pressed his index finger to his lips.

 

“He’s a little too big around the middle,” Yakov sighed.  He was flipping through Yuuri’s medical papers.  Viktor had been aware of the weight problem beforehand, but that was less of a concern than Yuuri’s nerves in Viktor’s opinion.  “I trust that you’ll deal with that as well?”

“He’ll be in dancing shape in no time.”

Yakov sighed heavily.  “Alright.  I’m trusting you.  Don’t screw it up.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

Yuuri showed up to class two weeks later, as he’d been instructed in his acceptance letter.  He arrived half an hour early because he was so nervous, and started stretching outside of the classroom.  He’d gotten a tour a few days after the first audition, so he already knew the layout of the building, but it was still a little confusing.  There were two floors, each with three studios lined with barres and mirrors, along with large windows so observers could see in.  There were also changing rooms and bathrooms on each floor and some offices for Yakov and Lilia.  He’d also learned that Yakov was in charge of the Senior Company and Lilia was in charge of the Junior Company, but that Viktor Nikiforov was the principal danseur and would be taking over choreography for both the winter and spring seasons.  He would be observing classes and assigning parts for Carmen in the winter and Sleeping Beauty in the spring, and then at the end of the season he’d work with some dancers for the yearly showcase.

 

Personally, Yuuri thought is was a little strange for the directors to let the principal danseur have so much power in the company, but then again, it was Viktor Nikiforov, arguably the greatest danseur in the history of ballet.  Yuuri had his left leg up on the highest barre and was just about to lean over it to stretch out his quads when the greatest danseur in the history of ballet appeared just to his side.

 

“You must be Yuuri!”  His English was better than Yuuri had expected, but still slightly accented.

“Uh, yes, Katsuki Yuuri.  Um, You’re Mr. Nikiforov.”

“Please call me Viktor!”  Yuuri nodded.  He wasn’t completely sure what to do in this situation.  There were a few other dancers in the studio, three girls in particular who were watching them and tittering behind their hands.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Yuuri finally said.

“It’s nice to meet you too, especially since you’ll be my apprentice this season.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“My apprentice!”  Viktor’s eyes closed to accommodate his wide smile.  “You completely bombed your audition, but I was interested in your fluid movements during adagio, so I looked you up and vouched for you.”

“You...looked me up?”

“Yes, your friend Phichit is very active on social media.  We’ve been messaging each other for a few days now.”

 

Yuuri’s mind immediately began reeling.  So he hadn’t really made the cut, and he was only here because Viktor allowed him to be.  He knew it.  He’d fucking known.  But he’d hoped.  And now that hope stung.  Hearing that he wasn’t good enough straight from the lips of a ballet god, one that he’d looked up to since childhood, was like having cotton stuffed in his skull then having it ripped out.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, pulling his leg of the barre, “I should go.”  He started heading towards the door to the studio, but Viktor caught him by the hand.

“Wait!  You can’t leave, class hasn’t started yet.  Besides, you signed a contract!”

Yuuri’s jaw clenched up.  He could feel Viktor’s hand sweating around his wrist.  “Contract or not, I don’t want to ruin the quality of a company that would be better off without me.”

“What?” Viktor looked genuinely shocked.  Then he started laughing, but that just pissed Yuuri off even more.  He yanked his hand out of Viktor’s grasp.  “Yuuri, Yuuri!  You misunderstood me!  Actually, I probably misspoke.  You failed the audition, but you show promise.  I went in search of you because your adagio bewitched me!”

Yuuri gave him a sceptical look, eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

“You were nervous at the audition.  That was obvious.  I wanted to see how you danced without the pressure of three very stern-looking Russians judging your every move.  You’re very talented when the pressure’s off.  We just need to get you used to truly _performing_.”

 

Again, Yuuri didn’t know what to think.  On one hand, he wanted to believe Viktor.  On the other, his previous words kept rolling around in his head.

 

“ _I vouched for you._ ”

 

“Alright,” Yuuri finally conceded.  “Yeah.  Alright.”

“Wonderful!  I’ll have to introduce you to everyone!”

“Right now?”  Yuuri knew he’d have to meet his company members eventually, but he had trouble with names and faces.

“Of course not.  There’s only seven other people here.”

“Oh thank God.”

“Still nervous?”

“Always, if you haven’t noticed,” Yuuri sighed.  He tried to keep the annoyed edge out of his voice and mostly succeeded.

“No need for that!  Here, Chris!”

 

A blond man probably a few years older than Yuuri looked up from the floor a few feet to their left.  He was stretching his over-splits with the help of a foam roller.

“Viktor!  I didn’t even notice you come in.  Is that one of the newbies?”

“Yuuri, this is Christophe Giacometti, one of our soloists.  Chris, this is Yuuri Katsuki from Celestino’s Detroit Ballet.  He’s my new apprentice!”

“Oh, fancy!” Chris drawled.  Yuuri noticed that Chris had very long eyelashes, and a very sensual way of speaking.  It didn’t make Yuuri uncomfortable per se, but the way Chris eyes him up and down like one would inspect a cut of meat didn’t make him feel at ease. It also didn’t help that Yuuri felt terribly out of shape, and once he caught sight of Chris eyeing his midsection his hands twitched to pull at the hem of his shirt.

 

“It’s good to meet you,” Yuuri nodded.

“Same to you.”

“That over there is Georgi.  He just went through a pretty nasty break up, so if you see him crying don’t say anything,” Viktor whispered.  Yuuri nodded.

“Anya was too good for him anyway,” Chris murmured.  “He’s much too clingy, even for me.”

“That’s Mila and Anya and Sasha over there.”

“His ex is here?”

“Well, yes,” Chris grinned.  He picked up his foam roller and stood up.  “Again, if he starts crying, just ignore it.”

“Okay.”  This was a little too much personal information for Yuuri.  He scratched his arm a little uncomfortably.

“You’ll meet everyone else as they come in.  We have a few more newbies, but the only other new male dancer is...I think his name is G.G.?  I don’t remember, so it’s probably not important.”  Viktor shrugged with a smile, and Yuuri kept his eyes trained firmly on the marley floor beneath them.

“Well thank you, but I should get back to stretching before class starts.”

Both Viktor and Chris looked like they wanted to call him back, but they didn’t say anything.  

 

Eventually the classroom filled up with about thirty people, all in the corps, and then a few soloists, like Chris, who wanted to get in some extra practice.  Yakov showed up about two combinations in, and took over of Viktor, who moved to one of the barres.  The pianist wouldn’t show up until the second class, so in the meantime, Director Feltsman beat out eight counts by thumping his cane on the floor and shouting in Russian.

 

Yuuri could feel people watching him.  He knew they were waiting for him to mess up.  He knew it.  Every time Yakov let out a dissatisfied grunt between counts, Yuuri’s head would snap to his seat at the front of the class to see if it had been directed at him.  He didn’t know who the newer dancers were.  If he could have isolated their stares, maybe he could have just told himself they weren’t staring, just letting their eyes wander.  But he didn’t know who was who and he couldn’t tell if they were looking for his weaknesses.  Not that his weaknesses were hard to find.  Yakov kept calling out corrections, and he’d already commented on Yuuri’s hands three times.

 

They moved through barre and then onto floor, and then the class was done.  They had a small break, and then it was off to men’s class for Yuuri and the rest of the men, and pointe class for the girls.  Viktor and Chris practically chassé’d through the halls after one another.  There was one man from the class that stayed behind to peer into the other class, which had just started.  Younger kids lined the barres, and Lilia counted out for them.

 

“Otabek, hurry up!” Georgi called.  The other man, Otabek, glared.

“In a minute.”

Yuuri took a moment to study him.  He had cropped hair and strong eyebrows that made his face look disgruntled all the time.  Yuuri averted his eyes when Otabek glanced at him.  Georgi, Otabek, and Yuuri both followed after Chris, Viktor, and the other newbie, who Yuuri had learned was named J.J., not G.G., as Viktor had speculated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've changed the title!! The previous title was fun and explained exactly what was going on in the AU, but it was just a little too obvious. So we've changed it. Sorry for any confusion. Also, we've decided that we're going to try and update every Friday! Hopefully we'll be able to stick to that! Again, if you want to know what certain steps mentioned look like, there are some links at the end of the chapter, and if you have any quesitons about ballet or the AU feel free to comment!

“I’m interested in you.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m interested in you.”

“Alright, cool, cool. But I’m not interested you,” Yuri huffed out.  Otabek was an interesting individual, that was for sure, but Yuri had no desire to associate with him.  “I’d at least like to know the guy I date, if it’s all the same to you.”

“I don’t want to date you.  I’m interested in your dancing.”

“Uh--”

“I want to take you on as an apprentice, the same way Viktor has with Katsuki.”

“Viktor-!  Katsuki? That-” Yuri spluttered a few more times trying to make sense of what he’d just learned.  “You’re telling me that  _ asshole _ , who promised to make _me_ his apprentice, went back on his word for that pig?”

“I wasn’t aware of any of that,” Otabek said, “but yes, Katsuki is Viktor’s apprentice at the moment.”

“I’ll kill him.  I’ll fucking kill-”

“Yuri, are you going to accept my offer or not?”

“Fine!  I’ll be your apprentice.  I’m not happy about it though.  And I’m only doing it for my own improvement.”

“That’s usually what an apprenticeship is for,” Otabek commented.

“Well, hurry up.  You’re already late for the men’s class aren’t you?”

“Yakov won’t notice.  He’ll think that new boy is me.”

 

Yuri grunted.  He watched Kenjirou and Guang Hong grand jeté around each other in circles while they waited for Leo to get out of the bathroom.  Men’s class for the seniors would have started half an hour ago, and the junior males were supposed to join as soon as their morning class was over, but they usually procrastinated.  Otabek and Yuri headed over without the others, since they were...occupied.  Yuri threw them a glare.  It was too early to be that happy.

 

~

 

There was nothing like the smell of feet and male body odor to remind you of the testosterone-ridden environment of a men’s ballet lesson.  While the company class had calmed him a bit, Yuuri could still feel the bitter taste from Viktor’s blunt choice of words.

 

_ “You completely bombed your audition.”  _

 

He knew that!  He’d known during the audition.  Why did he keep replaying the phrase in his head?  He glanced at Viktor, who was in the middle of doing several consecutive double tours with minimal effort.  If Yuuri hadn’t been so impressed, he might have cursed Viktor out silently.  He took a chassé and prepped for his own tours, and managed to get two doubles in before he stumbled out of it.  He glanced up to see if anyone had seen how badly he’d fucked up.  Luckily, only Chris seemed to pay him any kind of attention.  He pursed his lips then turned back to Yakov.  Yuuri sighed.

 

_ ‘Fuck, as if I hadn’t already lived through the horror of a mortifying audition first-hand,’ _ Yuuri grimaced. ‘ _ Now I get to be judged every minute of everyday.’ _ Maybe it would’ve been different if Viktor had just been one of his classmates commenting on his performance. Maybe. But this was Viktor Nikiforov, who Yuuri had practically worshipped for half a decade.

 

Yuuri could not help but notice one particular young man that brimmed with confidence across the room. Too much confidence, actually. Oh, god. What was this guy doing?  Yuuri squinted a bit to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. That was...J.J., right?  Otabek had skipped class to watch the juniors.  They looked very similar, but J.J. had such overwhelming confidence.  The way he carried himself seemed… borderline gaudy. At the beginning of class, Yuuri had watched him grab his heel and stretch his leg out to the side. ‘ _ He’s one of “those guys” _ ,’ Yuuri concluded. ‘ _ Intimidation stretchers _ .’

 

Before warm-up pliés, J.J. had motioned the sign of the cross and lowered his head down to quietly whisper to himself.  Yuuri had thought, ‘ _We’re going to start class in literally 30 seconds, what is this guy praying for?’_  Almost immediately, the young man bent both his hands into a J-shaped position and clutched them dramatically into his chest.  Yuuri wasn’t too great with lip-reading, but he could easily figure out what the guy had murmured into his hand gesture. 

 

_ “It’s J.J. style.” _

 

Yuuri had felt his eyes practically bugging out of his head.  Yuuri didn’t know whether to laugh at or just completely ignore J.J.  He had opted for the latter, but throughout class J.J.’s ego seemed to grow to occupy all the empty space in the classroom.  Even Viktor was side-eyeing him during combinations.  He’d made some off-handed comments about wanting to see Viktor’s À la seconde turns, and having a competition to see who could do more, to which Viktor had given a tight-lipped smile and said, “Maybe later.”  It was so hard to tell if J.J. was playing the idiot for fun, or if he was just...like that.  At least any negative attention that could have been directed at Yuuri ended up thrust upon J.J. instead.

 

The juniors showed up about half an hour into the class, as they were supposed to, and Otabek followed in after Yuri Plisetsky.  Yuuri and Yuri’s eyes met, and Yuri bristled immediately.  Yuuri didn’t understand.  Other than the fact that Yuri didn’t want Yuuri in the company, there wasn’t anything to warrant the heat in Yuri’s gaze, and oh boy, was this going to get confusing.  Yuuri’s head was already spinning trying to figure out whether or not he was even referring to himself correctly.

 

“Line up by height.  We’re doing partnering today.”  Yakov was brusque.  When they didn’t immediately begin lining up, he thumped his cane on the ground.  “Now, boys.”

So they scampered around to figure out who was shorter than who.  Yuuri ended up between Otabek and Georgi.  Yakov divided them evenly into short and tall, female part and male part.  When they were all paired up, Yuuri found himself with the shortest one of the female assigned boys, since he was the shortest male assigned boy.  The kid had red and blond hair, obviously not natural.  Yuuri tried to smile, to return the excitement swarming in the younger boy’s eyes.

 

“It’s been my dream to meet you since I started dancing!” the boy said in Japanese.  Yuuri almost startled out of his own skin.

“Are you Japanese?”

“Yes!  My name’s Minami Kenjirou and it’s an honor to finally meet you!”

Yuuri could almost feel relief making his bones liquify.  Even if this kid, Minami, was over-excitable, at least there was someone he could speak fluently with, a luxury he hadn’t even had back in Detroit.

 

“Will you two shut up with that Asian shit?” Yuri hissed.  He was paired up with J.J. and looked absolutely furious.  Yuuri clicked his teeth shut.

“Don’t mind him,” Minami smiled, “he’s always pissy like that.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Minami-san.”

“Oh, you can call me Kenjirou!  Everyone else goes by given name.  Could I call you Yuuri?”  He was almost shy as he asked.  Almost.

“Sure.”  And Kenjirou squealed, drawing Yakov’s attention.

“Ken!” he bellowed.  “Focus, boy!”

“Yes, sir!”

 

“Today I want to go through fishes.  Make sure you can all at least do them.  Well, at least half of you can do them.”  He glanced up and down at the shorter boys, then shook his head.  “Alright girls, arabesque.”  The shorter boys all stood with their right legs up and their arms in first arabesque, left arm in front of them, right arm extended to their sides.

“Boys, take hold.”

Yuuri was sure Kenjirou could feel his hands shaking on his thigh and side as he wrapped his body around Kenjirou’s.  Yuuri wasn’t really used to being the boy in partnering situations.  All the ways it could go wrong listed themselves out in his head.  Kenjirou gave him a quizzical look, then grinned.

 

“You won’t drop me.  I’m really small so I’m easy to lift.”

Kenjirou’s confidence might have actually made it worse, but Yuuri took a deep breath, and once Kenjirou’s head was back in the right position, they both lifted.

 

“Chris!” Yakov yelled.  “Put Otabek down and do it right, would you?”

“Ya-kov!” Chris whined back.  “Beka is too stout for me to grab him the usual way.”

“Please keep your hand off my ass,” Otabek deadpanned.  “I can’t think of any partnering position that necessitates such blatant groping.”

Despite his words, Otabek didn’t seem too uncomfortable, or even upset by Chris’s wandering hands.  Yuuri did his best to put Kenjirou back down on his standing foot, but there was a little bit of stumbling.  If anything, he had it easier than the other males, considering there must have been at least a fifteen centimeter difference between himself and Kenjirou.

 

“Can you grab a little lower on my waist?” Kenjirou asked.  “Your hand slipped too high up, and I could feel myself falling.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.  Try again?”  Yuuri nodded and pushed his glasses back up his nose.  They got back into position and Yuuri grabbed Kenjirou closer to his hip, then lifted and dipped.  He was supposed to be looking down at Kenjirou’s outstretched hand, but Viktor had caught his eye.  He was partnering a young man with darker skin and chin length hair pulled into a half ponytail, but he was staring rather intensely at Yuuri.  When their eyes met, Viktor grinned and plopped the boy he was partnering back into his arabesque perfectly.  No stumbles, no wobbles, nothing.

 

_ “I vouched for you.” _

 

Yuuri brought Kenjirou back up a little too quickly and didn’t notice how close he was holding his partner.  “Shit,” he muttered when he set Kenjirou down on his foot.

“Are you okay?”  Kenjirou dropped his leg and stumbled off Yuuri’s foot quickly.  “I didn’t mean to land on your foot.”

“It’s not your fault.  I’ve got blisters,” Yuuri said with a raised hand.  “I’m just glad I didn’t drop you.”

“Well that one felt really good until the end.  Did you run out of strength?”

“Uh, yeah,” Yuuri lied.

“Can we try again?”

So they did.  They kept going until Yakov came over and told Kenjirou to wrap his legs around Yuuri’s waist, so Yuuri could let go and practice holding with his thigh.  It was hard for both of them.  Both were were using strange muscles to keep the tension steady, plus they had to act like it wasn’t hard at all.  Unfortunately for Yuuri, when he’d set Kenjirou down on one of his blisters, it must have popped open, because every shift of his foot against the canvas felt like fire.  He knew he should have put bandaids on before leaving the house.  Yakov snapped a few words at him each time he came around to correct their positions, particularly that he wasn’t putting his weight forward enough, and that if he didn’t fix it he’d fall on his ass with a whole lot of Kenjirou on top of him.

 

Eventually, once everyone had gotten the hang of the fish, Yakov told the boys posing as women to do a tour jeté into the fish, and Yuuri felt his stomach drop.  It would require Kenjirou to essentially get a short running start and do a turning jump, and then Yuuri would catch him mid air and dip him into the fish.  Yuuri raised one hand and used the other to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

 

“What is it Katsuki?” Yakov asked.

“Is there anyway--”

“Speak up boy, I can barely hear you.”

“Is there anyway,” Yuuri said a little louder, “that I can observe that first?  I’ve never had to do a fish like that before.”

Yakov scoffed, and Yuuri felt the blood rush to his feet.  “Fine, Fine. Viktor, Leo.  Show him.”

 

Leo and Viktor went through a very quick, but detailed run through of how the lift would work.  Yuuri copied Viktor’s moves almost exactly, and he ran through the motions as though he were actually going to do the lift right beside them, even though Kenjirou was not prepping for the jump at all.  Yuuri thanked them, then repeated the motions a few times on his own again.  He turned back to Kenjirou.

 

“Can you do the prep, but not actually take the jump?”

“Sure!”  Kenjirou settled into position and took a chassé towards him and moved his arms as though he would jump.  He turned, using steps rather than the jump, and Yuuri took a hold of him as he would in the jump.  They repeated that a few times until Yuuri felt a little better about trying for real.

 

Their first attempt wasn’t a disaster, but it was still a little sad compared to the others.  Yakov was still gruffly barking out corrections, and tapping on calves with his cane.  When he got to Yuuri and Kenjirou, he had quite a few words to say, and he spent the rest of the hour with them.  By the end, Yuuri and Kenjirou had it almost perfect three out of five times.  Yakov coughed into a handkerchief, which made Yuuri cringe a little, and told them to get out of the studio before Kenjirou leapt right out of the studio window.

 

Viktor corralled all of them back towards the studio where they’d taken morning class to join the girls for some kind of Winter Season briefing.  Yuuri found himself pressed between the apricot-colored walls with the entire senior company and junior company.  Lilia, Yakov, and Viktor stood before them all.  Yakov thumped his cane twice, and all the dancers quieted.

 

“As most of you know, we would usually have a lunch break now, then begin rehearsals!” Viktor said raising his hands in front of himself.  “Since today is the first day of the winter season, we’re going to have a short day, so you’re all free after we go through some housekeeping for the season.”

 

Several dancers around Yuuri sighed in frustration, and a few grinned widely.  Yuuri tried to keep his attention focused on what Viktor was saying, but there were so many people in such a small room, and their breathing was getting a little too loud for him.  He pulled at the collar of his shirt and grimaced.

 

“If you have not met our newest dancers this season, I’d like to introduce you to J.J. and Yuuri!”  J.J. struck a dramatic pose and said in his suavest voice, “Hello.”  Yuuri gave a simple bow where he stood, wishing he could just slink into the back of the crowd.  “ For the girls, we have Isabella,” a small girl to Yuuri’s left gave a small smile and a wave, “Diya,” a dark-skinned girl with black hair, “and Vladlena.” a very uptight girl near the front gave a stiff nod.  “They’ll be working in the corps for now, and I want everyone to treat them kindly.  I know you’re all fond of giving the newbies a hard time, but I’m begging you all to tone it down for one season.”

 

There were some stifled giggles and a few coughs, but no one interrupted.  Viktor wrapped the room in a pointed stare, then broke back into that winning smile of his.  “Fantastic.  Now, most of you know how the parts are selected for shows, but in case you’ve forgotten, the choreographer, which is me this year,”  His heart-shaped smile grew even bigger, if it was possible, “will be watching you all during classes and rehearsals, and assigning parts by October.  That gives us two and a half months to learn and perfect  _ Carmen _ .  I trust you all won’t let the Company down.”

 

Yuuri was still trying to piece together the newbies’ names with their faces, and Viktor was already talking about their winter debut.  He pushed some of his hair out of his face and glanced down at his black shoes, trying not to imaging the bright pink blisters that would meet him once he got back to his apartment.

 

“Also, since last season we had trouble with people cleaning up after rehearsals, Lilia has done us the honor of creating a job chart.  If you don’t do your job on the assigned week, I’ll make you taste-test my newest borscht recipe!”

 

The collective groan from the other dancers told Yuuri all he needed to know about Viktor’s cooking.  He shuddered, even though he didn’t really know what “borscht” was.  It didn’t  _ sound _ appetizing.

 

After a few more quick reminders about the microwaves in the company room and the dates for costume fittings, Viktor released them, waving as the younger ones began filing out.  Yuuri was just about to go gather his things from the shelf in the company room he’d assigned, when Viktor called after him.

 

“You’re getting extra rehearsals!” he said with a big grin.

 

Yuuri tried to return the smile, but stuttered, “Y-Yeah?”

“Yup!  We’re going to need at least another hour a day to work on your presentation and performance skills!”  Viktor gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder, which kind of dazed Yuuri.  He didn’t know why, but Yuuri was becoming more and more convinced that he’d joined some kind of Russian dance cult with initiation ceremonies.

 

An hour later and Viktor and Yuuri were both back at the studio with bellies full of lunch.  Yuuri went through some preliminary barre stretches, just to get his body warmed up again.  Viktor went right into doing consecutive tours in the middle of the studio.

 

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” Yuuri asked finally.

“What?”

“Doing all that without warming up?”

“Probably.”  Viktor took off while spotting Yuuri’s face and did a perfect triple, right in front of him.  “I just like doing tours more than barre stretches.  If Yakov were here he’d be nagging my ear off about tendons and sprains,” he laughed.  “What about you?”  He stepped closer to Yuuri, just inside of what Yuuri considered to be his personal space bubble.

“I’m sorry?”

“What do you like to do, dance-wise?”

“Uh, probably petit allegro?  And I mean, I don’t particularly like it, but I’m okay at adagio.”

Viktor’s face was blank for a moment, then he began to laugh.  “You’re very good at adagio from what I’ve seen.  Are you just being modest to make me feel better?”

Yuuri shock him a quizzical look.  “N-No, I just, I’m still learning.”

“You danced in a professional company for three years in America, and two in Japan, according to Phichit.  I think you’re good enough to say so with a little confidence.”

This time Yuuri laughed, but it was more bitter than Viktor’s had been.  “I’m gonna kill Phichit.”

“Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about your hands.”

 

Yuuri straightened up, in full “student mode”, as Viktor began calling it that night.  He made Yuuri go through the five basic positions with all arm arrangements, gently chiding when his hands stiffened up.  Yuuri’s arms were actually shaking a little by the end of it.  Viktor took a step back and pressed a finger to his lips as he watched Yuuri go through the positions again.

 

“Thumb’s out,” he commented.  It disappeared before he’d even finished, and he smiled.  Without warning, he took Yuuri’s extended hand in his own.  “Is it a nervous thing, for your hands to go so rigid?”

“I, uh, I guess?”  Yuuri really hadn’t thought about it that hard.  “I don’t know, they just do that sometimes.”

“It’s not uncommon for dancers to hold stress in their hands.  It’s usually the hands or the face, so I’m glad your pretty face isn’t the thing getting all scrunched up, but this ruins your lines.”

Viktor noticed that Yuuri’s ears were bright red when he ducked his head.

“I-I know it messes up my lines.  But it’s not exactly a conscious thing.  I just look down, and they’re like that.  See?”  He raised both arms over his head in a fifth on haut.  His hands were stiff, and his right thumb poked out naturally.

 

“First of all your arms are too far back, how can you expect to spot if you can’t even see past your biceps, and you’re pulling up too far in your shoulders, and your posture is so unaligned--”

“Viktor?”  Viktor hadn’t even noticed that some simple corrections had turned into him touching Yuuri all over the place, pushing his shoulders down, pulling his waist into line with his ribcage, and then pushing on his tailbone to tuck his hips under.  He took a step back and lifted his hands up in a defensive gesture.

 

“Sorry, Yuuri.  Didn’t mean to touch all over you!” he laughed nervously.  “It’s uh, just how I teach!”

“N-no, that’s fine.  I was wondering if this was better?”  Yuuri shook his arms a little to get Viktor’s attention.  If anything, his hands were even more board-like, but at least he’d pulled his arms forward a little.

“Better,” he sighed with a smile.  “We’ll work on your hands some more later.  Let’s do grand allegro!”

Yuuri was surprised at the sudden shift, but if he wanted to comment, he thought better of it, because he shifted into B plus quickly.

Viktor grinned and started with a simple across the floor combination, and had Yuuri follow him around repeating it over and over.  Viktor had planned on doing so until Yuuri begged him to stop or he just collapsed.  Unfortunately, Yuuri had impressive stamina, and ended up lapping him when Viktor began feeling a strain in his achilles tendon.

 

“Hhuh,” he panted, still trying to catch up wit Yuuri, “Wait!”  Yuuri stopped, arms raised, with a questioning look on his face.  “Too fast...how…”

“Oh, sorry.”

“How are you...still going?”

“Don’t know,” Yuuri offered.  “Just am.”

“We’ve been going around in circles for almost...five minutes!  I can’t...think of a single variation that’s that...long!”

“Well, I’ve always been corps, so I got used to dancing for extended periods of time.”

“You’re!  Not even...panting!”

Yuuri shrugged again.  “Hey, how long does the studio stay open at night?”

“Uh...Yakov...usually locks up when he leaves...at midnight.”

“Oh.  Would he mind if I stayed after rehearsals?”

Viktor was finally starting to catch his breath, so he eyed Yuuri suspiciously.

“No.  As long as no one’s using the studios for rehearsal, they’re all yours.  You planning on getting some extra practice?”

“Yeah.”  Yuuri didn’t meet his eyes.  Instead, he just started doing the jump combination again.  Viktor gaped after him.  After a few run throughs, he began calling out corrections.  Yuuri was ridiculously receptive to Viktor’s comments.  But his hands were still morphed into uncomfortable angles.

 

Finally, Viktor clapped his hands.  “Okay, okay!  Very good.  You’re already improving.  I’m impressed.”  Yuuri’s ears turned bright red and he pushed his glasses up his nose again.  It was very endearing.  For once in his life, Viktor’s smile was genuine.

“I ought to thank you for helping me.”

“No need for that, I’ve actually enjoyed myself.  I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

Yuuri nodded. “Tomorrow.”

“Good night, Yuuri.”

“G-Good night.”

 

They both left the studio, grabbed their things from the lobby, and left.  And that was how they continued for several weeks.  There was nothing unusual about their routine: morning class, men’s class, corps rehearsals, then private lessons.  But Viktor found Yuuri strange.  He was closed off from the other dancers.  He declined every invitation out to lunch or dinner, or even the quick runs down to the nearby convenience store during breaks.  He didn’t talk about himself, but would politely listen to others, then excuse himself.  He wasn’t rude, or uncomfortable to be around, but by the time casting began, Viktor came to the realization that for all the hours he and Yuuri had spent together, he knew next to nothing about him.  

 

Well, nothing but what he could squeeze out of Phichit over FaceBook message.  Even then, what he knew was, in total, that Yuuri had a dog when he was younger, his parents and older sister lived back in Japan, and that other than Japanese food, he tended to favor pizza joints and fast food chains.  And also he apparently had very sensitive feet.  Sometimes he limped throughout class, even though Viktor knew that he was trying to hide it.  Viktor had confronted him about it a few times before, but Yuuri’d just evade and say he hadn’t iced his feet well enough the previous night.  After a few weeks of that, Viktor had told him that if he was really hurting that badly, he should take a break a rest for a week.  Yuuri had just smiled a little and told him it wasn’t that bad.  So Viktor mentioned it to Yakov, and Yakov told Yuuri to take a week off of rehearsal.  So Yuuri would just sit at the front of the class during run throughs and corps work or mark through his steps in the back.

 

Viktor had never been so frustrated and fascinated in his life.

 

~

 

Otabek and Yuri watched silently.  Yuuri Katsuki, the asshole, was at one of the barres on the side of the room, rolling  up and down through his feet.  Plié, relevé.  Plié, relevé.  Over and over.  Otabek shifted and squinted to get a better look.  Yuri could feel his lips curling.  They’d come to practice after dinner, when the studio was empty.  But it wasn’t empty.  

 

Plié, relevé.  Plié, relevé.

 

He was just.  Warming up like there was nothing wrong with it.

“I should tell Yakov,” Otabek muttered.  Yuuri was facing a wall and watching his own feet intently.

“Are you going to?”

“I don’t know.”

“He’s supposed to be resting.  Yakov doesn’t want him hurting himself anymore than he already has.  I guess now we know  _ why _ he’s so hurt.  Look, he’s not even getting over his box.”

“But his form is good.  He should be able to do it with his next pair of shoes.  Maybe.”

“He’s still putting himself at risk for a torn tendon or something,” Yuri spat.  “Fucking selfish.”

“I’m not going to say anything, I think.  I doubt he’ll get far like that on his own.  It’s not worth stressing out over, Yuri.”

“I want him gone.”

Otabek clapped a hand over his shoulder.  “I’ll be in studio 2 when you’re ready.”  He left without another word.  Yuri glared, hoping he’d be able to make Yuuri combust through gaze alone.  Since it didn’t work, much to his disappointment, he just watched Yuuri struggle through his pliés with folded arms.

 

Yuuri stood up on his toes as best he could and let go of the barre, finally lifting his head to stare at the wall in front of him.  With one last jerk of his body, Yuuri managed to get all the way up on the box of his pointe shoes.  He wobbled a bit, but he found his balance quickly.  He stood like that for a few moments, then hopped down.  He ran a hand through his hair, turned toward the back of the class and froze. He caught sight of Yuri’s piercing gaze, and immediately felt his body break out into a cold sweat.

 

~

 

This was bad.  This was very, very bad.  Yuri Plisetsky wasn’t staring him down, but if he were tall enough, he would have been.  Yuuri bit his lip and eyed the door.  Yuri slammed his hand against the wall and Yuuri jumped.

“I asked what the hell you think you’re doing, huh?!” he had barged in with no prelude and began shouting in Russian before he remembered Yuuri only spoke English.

“I-I’m!”

“What are those, you dick?  You think you’ll get a leg up on everyone if you run around in pointe shoes?”

Yuuri glanced down at his shoes.  He’d only finished sewing the ribbons on last night, and he’d wanted to break them in tonight.  He had thought the studio was empty.  He’d thought he was safe.  But now Yuri Plisetsky was staring at him, waiting for answers he couldn’t fake fast enough to give.  

 

“So?” Yuri snapped again.

“I’m...I’m breaking them in?”

“For you?”

“I--”

“I don’t even know why I’m asking.  No girl in our company has feet that wide.  Why?”

“B-because?”

“Because what, shitface?”

“I want to?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know?”

“I’m going to tell Yakov about this, you know.  Get you kicked out of the company for putting yourself at risk.”

“I’m not putting myself at risk!”

“Oh, don’t give me that.  Everyone sees how you limp around rehearsal.  You’re a shit dancer and an even worse liar.  You’re supposed to be taking a break.”  He took another up-down of Yuuri then suddenly blurted, “Viktor was supposed to bring me into the company, not you.  You took my spot.”

“I took--”

“Viktor promised me that if I spent the three year minimum in the Junior Company that he’d make sure I made it into the Senior Company with no issues, and make me his apprentice.  Instead, he decides take in a no-talent, no-future idiot who can’t tell up-stage from down.”

“That only happened once!” Yuuri defended. He hadn’t been thinking and had just followed the girl in front of him.

 

“It doesn’t matter!  You took this from me, and now you’re wasting your time on this shit!  I’m telling Lilia.”

“I didn’t ask Viktor to chose me!” Yuuri said firmly.  Like hell he was gonna let this kid intimidate him anymore.  He may be the great Yuri Plisetsky, but he was also a moody teenager with no concept of basic manners.  “If you have a problem with Viktor’s decisions, you need to take it up with him, not sit around yelling at me.”

Yuri scoffed.

“I’ll give you a little advice, Yuri.  You may be a great dancer, but that won’t matter one bit if you don’t fix that nasty attitude of yours.  There’s no ballet with only one role.”

Yuri drew his head back as if he were even more offended, if that was possible.  Yuuri almost wanted to laugh.  Yeah, so the kid was just a fifteen-year-old bully.  Yuuri could handle that.

 

“Coming from the guy who won’t even talk to his other company-mates!  How are you going to be a corps dancer when you don’t even talk to the man who got you into the company, huh?”

“I don’t think that’s really a problem,” Yuuri smiled.  “I can perform perfectly well without knowing or being known by others in the company.”

Yuri growled, clearly feeling he was losing this fight.  “It doesn’t matter!  I’m telling Lilia and Yakov!”

Yuuri shrugged at him.

“Unless you promise to teach me!”

That caught Yuuri off guard.   “What?”

“Teach me how to go on pointe too, or I tell.”

“I-I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Yuri.”

“Oh, so you can do it, but I can’t?  Fuckin’ hypocrite.”

“No, it’s just,” Yuuri sighed, “if I get hurt like this, it’s no one’s fault but my own.  If you get hurt like this, I’ll have been the one enabling you.”

“I wouldn’t rat you out for that.  You’re not in charge of me, even if you teach me.”

Yuuri ran a hand through his hair and blinked down at Yuri.  God, this kid didn’t make any sense.

 

“I don’t even know what I’m doing.  How am I supposed to teach you?”

“Fine, whatever.  I guess I’ll just have to tell the directors then.”

“It’s not even that weird for men to do pointe to strengthen their leg muscles!”  Yuuri actually threw his hands in the air.  He hadn’t been this frustrated in a very long time.

“Then why are you doing it in secret?”

Yuuri snapped his jaw shut.

“That’s what I thought.  So teach me, or I tell.”

Yuuri wanted to ask if Yuri was four, the way he kept threatening to tattle, but he figured that would just rile him up more.  “Fine!  Fine!  But if you get hurt, you’re not pinning it on me.”

“Psh. I already said I wouldn’t, you idiot. Do you do this every night?”

“Yeah. Almost.”

“Then be ready for me in a few nights. I need to get pointe shoes.”

“You’ll need to sew them too.”

“Duh.  What? Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Yuuri just responded with a close-lipped smile.  Yuri cursed at him in both Russian and English, flipped him off, then slammed the door on his way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [grand jete](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHivyA_fwpA)  
> [chasse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjFbdeKL7lw)  
> [À la seconde turns](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPHThqkQWzU)  
> [tour en l'air](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVN9als2atU)  
> [tour jete](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ywkuaIPsVBA%22%22)  
> [fish dip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txDqHPcQ1rE) The catch that Yuuri as so much trouble with starts at around 2 minutes  
> [Hands-free fish dip](http://www.tonyaplank.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/sbcojocarucarreno1gs.jpg)  
> [Five basic arm positions](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5HwZJQ8NuA)  
> [Plié and relevé](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjEjc6Qka0U) The plie is when the legs are bent, and the releve is when the dancer goes up on pointe. These are very important strength building steps, both in pointe shoes and soft shoes, and they are one of the first things you learn as a ballerina.  
>  Spotting refers to the practice of looking in one direction (the spot) and whipping one's head around to continue looking in that direction as a way to maintain balance during a turn, as well as help the dancer get all the way around in the turn  
> Barre refers to both the wooden poles lining a dance class, as well as the beginning section of a dance class focused on stretching and strengthening leg and arm muscles  
> Adagio means slow in music, and in ballet it refers to a combination usually right after barre. It is a slow combination, usually involving long periods of holding positions and balancing.  
> Petit Allegro refers to the section of ballet class that involves small jumps, such as petit jetes. beats can be added to these jumps to increase the difficulty.  
> Grand Allegro is usually one of the last sections of a ballet class and it deals with bigger jumps such as leaps and tours.  
> Upstage vs. Downstage- in early performances, the audience was not put on a slope the way they are today. Instead, the stage itself was sloped, with the front part being lower than the back part. Upstage refers to the back of the stage and downstage refers to the front of the stage.  
> Men in pointe shoes- while men very rarely go en pointe for performances, there are exceptions (Notably the donkey in Midsummer Night's Dream), and some men will even take pointe classes in order to strengthen their legs. It's not really normal, but it's not unheard of in the ballet world for men to wear pointe shoes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in a bit of a rush, so I just wanted to get the chapter up!! I'll be adding the usual links to the steps we've named later when I have a little more time!  
> EDIT 1.13.2016  
> Links have been added! Sorry is took so long!

If Viktor had to listen to the Habanera one more freaking time, he was going to throw himself out his apartment window.  He’d been working on this choreography for over an hour and a half and the music wasn’t even three minutes long.  He let his front leg slide out from underneath him and settled into a split. He still had his notebook and pen in hand, but he eyes were really only glazing over the words he wrote.  He still had parts to assign.  Ugh.  If he had known being in charge of choreography and assigning parts was going to be so tedious, he would have left it to Yakov.  He shoved his pen into the spiral of his notebook and tossed both onto the couch a few feet away.

 

Chris was the obvious choice for the main male lead, Don José.  He was the only male soloist in the company besides Viktor, and he could turn his charisma and charm into something a little darker.  And Mila would be a perfect Carmen.  She was beautiful and fit the playfulness of the character, plus she and Chris already got along.  They’d probably have to work on  the expressions and presentation of the final movement, when Don José stabs Carmen and she dies, but that wasn’t what was frustrating him.  He pinched the bridge of his nose and ran through the names again.  Otabek was out because he would be too short to partner Mila.  J.J. could work.  He certainly had the confidence of a bullfighter.  But that confidence and self-assuredness made him a bad partner.  Yuri had complained multiple times that J.J. gripped him too tight, or couldn’t keep him on balance when they practice finger turns, and that he didn’t listen to Yuri.  Viktor sighed.  He supposed Georgi could do it, but Viktor didn’t know if Georgi was emotionally ready to watch his love interest get killed on stage, even if he and Mila were only friends offstage.  And that left Yuuri.

 

Escamillo was the most beloved bullfighter in Spain, brimming with confidence and allure.  He managed to charm the temptress, Carmen, with little effort.  Viktor frowned.  He didn’t know if Yuuri could do that, or rather, if he could portray that onstage.  He was a good partner though.  He’d partnered Kenjirou and Leo, and both had said that he was very considerate and took direction well.  As if Viktor didn’t already know that.  He leaned over and picked his notebook back up.  He penciled Yuuri’s and Georgi’s name in next to the word “Escamillo”.  Then he tossed the notebook back onto the couch and stretched himself over his front leg for a while.  After exhaling into his kneecap a few times, he twisted out of the split, stood up, and looked around the apartment.  Maccachin was nowhere to be seen, so Viktor decided it was time to take a break and bother him.

 

“Maccahin!” he called.  He wouldn’t have been surprised if his voice had echoed with how empty his apartment was.  Sure he had a couch and a bed and a kitchen filled with working appliances, but if he ignored that, the empty white walls and simple cream curtains mocked him.  He heard some snuffling and cloth ruffling from his bedroom.

“If someone who’s not supposed to be on my bed is on my bed, he’s going to get a very, very long bath!”  He darted into his room, and sure enough, there was a lump under his covers, breathing.

 

“Maccachin,” he tutted.  The lump raised it cloth-covered head and made a lip-smacking sound.  “Why are you all wrapped up in my covers, huh?  You aren’t even supposed to be on the bed.”  He crawled over and pulled the covers off his dog, who playfully dropped his head between his front paws, wagged his tail, and began panting.

 

“Do you...want to...go on a... _ walk _ ?”  Maccachin jumped off the bed and raced out of the room, causing the covers to fly off the bed.  Viktor laughed, but couldn’t ignore how boring his life must be if his only joy came from playing with his dog.

 

No, that wasn’t quite right.  He loved his job.  He loved dancing.  He just didn’t know how he felt about being in charge.  That being said, he did like being in charge when it came to having an apprentice.  Even if Yuuri would probably balk at Viktor describing him as a friend, Viktor couldn’t deny how much fun he had testing for Yuuri’s reactions, or watching him finally nail a quad pirouette.  A jangling sound broke Viktor out of his thoughts.  Maccachin jumped back on the bed, leash trailing out of his mouth, and pawed at Viktors legs.

 

“Alright, Alright, you old man.  Let’s go.”  He snapped the leash around Maccachin’s collar, grabbed a tennis ball, and flicked the lights off.  He couldn’t help but notice how unlived in his apartment looked, with no light, no dog, and no person to tell him otherwise.  The door closed behind him silently.

 

~

 

“Alright, kiddies, since Viktor is incompetent and can’t decide who to cast for Escamillo, we’ll be auditioning you again.”  Yakov was walking around the class during the first part of men’s class, holding his cane in both hands.  Yuuri’s blood ran cold as he watched Viktor pout at their director.  “Vitya will be teaching you the choreography today and you’ll all have this weekend to think about how you’d like to portray Escamillo.  When you come back on Monday, we’ll be judging you and assigning the part.  Sound good?”

“Yakov, what about me?” Chris asked.  Yakov glared and grunted.

“You’ve already done your time in auditions.  You’re free to go.”

Chris almost looked like a very proud tomcat as he strut out of the room.  Yuuri’s hands were going cold.  He had thought he was done with auditions.  He thought he was finally free of that.  Viktor hadn’t mentioned anything about this all week.  Had he been hiding it from Yuuri?  No, that wasn’t fair.  The other men looked just as surprised, so if anything, Viktor had hidden it from everyone, which was somewhat less stressful.

“Beka, you’re free to go too.  There’s just no way you’ll be able to partner Mila.  I’m sorry,” Viktor shrugged.  “You would have made a great Escamillo otherwise.”

Otabek nodded, but didn’t seem too put out.  He was probably used to being passed over due to his height.  That just left J.J., Georgi, and Yuuri.

 

“Alright you three, let’s listen to some music, shall we?”  Viktor pressed a button on the stereo, and Yuuri immediately recognized the Toreador's March as it paraded itself out of the speakers.  “Familiar, isn’t it?  It’s a confident dance of a man who’s faced death a dozen times.  I’ve choreographed with that in mind, so the solo is quite demanding.”

“Isn’t the solo at his introduction?” asked Georgi.

“Yes.  Even though Escamillo isn’t onstage as much as Don José, I’ve put many more jumps and turns in his choreo.  I’d probably say his part is more difficult.”  Viktor paused the music and clapped as he faced them again.  “Time to get to work!”  Viktor grinned.  Yuuri kind of wanted to smack him.

 

For the rest of the day, even throughout corps rehearsals, the thought of the impending audition haunted Yuuri.  The choreography was difficult in execution, but surprisingly easy to remember.  That was one thing Yuuri had noticed about Viktor’s choreography that he liked.  Viktor obviously had a very good ear for music and an even better eye for knowing what moves looked like the music sounded.  Yuuri could practically hear the step names in the music as he danced.

 

What Yuuri didn’t like about Viktor’s choreography was his penchant for assuming everyone could do five consecutive turns with no problem.  It was frustrating to corps members who were never expected to do more than a triple when Viktor waltzed in and explicitly choreographed quads and quintuples.  And then when the corps members had confronted him about it, he’d pouted for two days before changing their pirouettes to doubles.  Yuuri didn’t even want to think about the number of consecutive barrel turns he and the other men had to do.  Plus the company was low on men, so even the juniors had been drafted into this mess.  Kenjirou and Guang Hong had visited the bathrooms many times with frustrated tears threatening to ruin their rehearsals. 

 

So after a day of frustratingly mediocre rehearsal, Viktor tapped Yuuri on the shoulder and told him to meet in the second story studio three for extra practice.  Yuuri huffed out a heavy sigh, but climbed the stairs after dinner.

 

“You’re thinking too hard again, aren’t you?” Viktor asked after yet another sloppy triple pirouette.

“Probably.”

“What are you thinking about?  The auditions on Monday?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You have the choreography down.  I wouldn’t stress too much.”

“That’s not really what I’m worried about.”

Viktor’s eyes lit up, “Right, you’re worried about the presentation of it, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m going to be honest, Yuuri.”  Yuuri prepared himself for Viktor’s usual good-natured upbraiding.  How the man could say such blunt things with a smile on his perfect face was beyond Yuuri.  “You’re only really competing against Georgi.”

“What?”  Yuuri dropped his arms from where he’d been holding them.

 

“J.J. would probably have gotten the part if he weren’t such an awful partner.  Yakov and I have both fielded complaints from his partners, and we’re not comfortable putting our ballerinas in danger on stage.  You and Georgi are both good partners, but your stamina is much better.”  Yuuri’s eyes were watching Viktor’s mouth move, but he was having trouble understanding the words he was saying.  “I actually choreographed Escamillo’s solo with your stamina in mind.”  He grinned.  Yuuri took a step back and laughed.  Oh boy, this was terrible.

“No pressure, or anything,” he joked, but his hands were balled up into fists and his blood pressure dropped.

“Hmm?  Well, as long as you’re a little confident, I think you’ll get the part.”

“I’m not confident at all!”  Yuuri actually yelled.  He couldn’t meet Viktor’s wide-eyes afterwards.  He stared at his feet.  “I’m sorry.  I think it’d be better if you just chose Georgi.”

“I thought you’d be excited,” Viktor said.  “What’s wrong?”

“I-It’s too much.  I get nervous.”

“Yuuri, you’re shaking.  Are you okay?”

Yuuri just laughed bitterly.

“Can you talk to me?  Why don’t you want the part?  It could be the thing that convinces Yakov to move you up to a soloist.”

“It’s nothing.  I should go.”

“No, we’re not done with our practice, and we won’t be until you tell me why you look like you’re about to cry.”

“I’m not about to cry!” Yuuri defended.  Viktor gave him a pointed look.  “I-I get really bad anxiety.  That’s all.  Having you expect so much from me is just...scaring me.”

 

“Yuuri,” Viktor’s voice softened and he reached out a hand towards Yuuri’s face.  The hand changed directions halfway and ended up on his shoulder.  “I’m expecting you to go into that audition, perform the solo with your usual technical precision, a smile, and come out with a solo.  That’s it.  You literally only need to beat Georgi, and to be honest, I’m not sure he’s even going to be able to complete his audition.  He was panting halfway through today, remember?”

Yuuri actually snorted out a real laugh when he remembered how Georgi had been wheezing in the back of the classroom, laying on his back and whispering between pants, “I think I see the angel of death...she’s coming for me…”

Viktor’s hand actually came up to Yuuri’s cheek this time.  “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“But I do.  Even if I get the part, I don’t think I can perform it on stage.  I won’t be able to do it justice.”  Yuuri simultaneously wanted to lean into Viktor’s hand and bat it away.  He was familiar with Western social norms after spending so long in America, so he knew this was not...normal, but he also knew Viktor was trying to comfort him.

 

“I just can’t play the confident toreador.  I can’t seduce someone with a well aimed wink and a few barrel turns.”  He gently took Viktor’s hand off his face.  Viktor pulled back, but he looked at Yuuri skeptically.

“Have you tried?”

“What?”

“Have you tried to think of seducing someone while you dance?”

“W-well no, but--”

“Then why don’t you try?”

“Now?!”

“Sure,” Viktor had that stupid smug look on his face again, and Yuuri had to remind himself that this was the same man who choreographed that sadistic turn section for the corps girls during the tobacco sellers’ fight scene.  “Try to seduce me while you dance.”

“I-I don’t know how,” Yuuri admitted, still refusing to look him in the face.

“Just think of the last girl you dated or something.”

“I’ve never dated a--”

“Then the last boy,” Viktor said with a flick of his hand.  “I don’t discriminate.”

“Anyone.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve never dated anyone.”  Viktor raised his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Really.”  Yuuri knew his ears were probably bright red, but this was so embarrassing, having to admit to his idol that he’d never even so much as been on a date at his age.

 

“Oh.  Well, then I guess it would be a little harder to think about seducing someone.  Hmm.” He tapped his index finger against his lips.  “Haven’t you ever  _ thought _ about dating someone?”

“Not...not really.  I tend to shut out anything not involving dancing.”

“Then maybe try seducing the dance,” Viktor joked.  Yuuri sighed.

“I’m sorry.  I can’t be what you need for Escamillo.”

“I still think you can be.  You always look so happy when you’re dancing in those videos Phichit sent me.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Yuuri said more to the floor than to Viktor.

“If you’d like, I can leave the room while you dance the solo.  Just to get a feel for it.”

“What I’d like,” Yuuri practically groaned, “is to go home and hide for the next seventeen years of my life.”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed!” Viktor laughed.  “I’m not as suave as everyone around here seems to think.  I think that’s the trick to things like this.  You have to be someone you’re not.”

“That’s kind of the problem,” Yuuri deadpanned.  He took his glasses off and began cleaning them with his shirt hem.

“Can you just humor me?  And go through the solo with all this in mind?”

“I-I guess.”  He really didn’t want to.  But Viktor said he wasn’t leaving until this... _ issue _ got resolved.

“Good.  Do you care if I stay, or would you like for me to leave?”

“You can stay.  Knowing you, you probably wouldn’t be able to keep from watching through the window.”

Viktor blinked, then started laughing.  “Am I really that predictable?”

“No, but it just seems like something you’d do.”  Yuuri’s ears were on fire again.  Viktor gave a bashful smile, then went over to the stereo and fiddled with some dials.

“Are you ready?”

Yuuri got into B plus as best he could, then nodded.  He tried to think his way through their conversation quickly to pick out the pieces that would help him,  One of the phrases that kept replaying in his mind was, “ _ Try to seduce me while you dance. _ ”  Yuuri had to supress a shiver as Viktor played the music.  It wasn’t as if Yuuri was completely unaware of what desire was like.  He tried his best not to think about how much of a crush he’d had on Viktor as a teenager.  God, that was embarrassing.

 

He ended his first pirouette with a flourish, and pulled into Sous-sus.  He hadn’t counted how many turns he’d done, just let his head whip around as many times as the music let him.  He did the chasses and piqués quickly, letting his legs do the steps without his mind interfering.  It had been a while since he’d felt comfortable enough to dance like this.  He threw a sly smile over his shoulder as he stepped over his straight leg and spun into a lame duck turn.  The arms for Escamillo’s solo were much freer than Yuuri was used to, so he figured Viktor wouldn’t be too upset if he embellished them a little.

 

He slid his hands down his chest as he landed the turn.  He was supposed to be seducing Viktor, wasn’t he?  He probably would have peed himself if Viktor had said that to him a few years ago.  Now he just smirked at the thought.  Viktor was much more air-headed than Yuuri would have ever guessed, and much more approachable than he seemed now that Yuuri knew him a little better.  The first jump section was up next, so Yuuri figured...why not just throw himself into those barrel turns?  He knew he could do them.  He knew he’d still have enough energy for the tours later on, so why not?

 

And by the time he made it to those final tours, he had forgotten what he had been so nervous about in the first place.  So what if he’d failed his initial audition?  So what if Viktor had saved his ass from rejection?  He was here now, and he was being seriously considered for a solo part.  He took off from his tours with a turned in front foot, but he still managed to get around twice.  As the music began its final crescendo, Yuuri let his feet fly.  He loved petit allegro, so he threw in some extra beats, and let his working leg snap up in a front cabriole.  When he finally hit his final pose, kneeling on his right knee, with his torso twisted and a hand on his hip, he was panting and his calves burned.

 

“Yuuri.”

“Yes?”  Yuuri stood, and the last minute and a half caught up with him.  Oh God, he’d changed the choreography, Viktor was probably livid!  He didn’t sound like his normal care-free self.  He was probably going to--

“If you dance like that at the audition, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble securing the part.”  Viktor finally moved his hand away from his face, revealing a small satisfied smile.  “It’s been a long day.  Why don’t we call it a night, huh?”

“O-Okay.”

 

~

 

Yuuri was numb.  J.J. was making a huge deal of ignoring him in the hallways and during rehearsals, but Yuuri didn’t even care.  He just wandered around numb for almost a week after the audition.  Viktor had noticed, he was sure, and if Yuuri could feel anything, he would have been grateful that Viktor hadn’t attempted to bring up his spaciness.  Yuri, on the other hand, was even more obnoxious than usual.  Probably because he felt like Yuuri was ignoring him.

 

“Hey, Fatso!  Am I doing this right or not?”

Yuuri glanced over and just kinda...nodded.  Then he went back to pulling and pressing his leg in and out of coupé, adding a Plié and relevé so he could melt in and out of the position.  He didn’t even bother marking his arms.

“You know, if you’re gonna act all high and mighty now that you’ve landed a solo part, I might as well just go tell Yakov why you’re always so tired.”

“Huh?”

“God, you’re not even fucking listening to me.  Why do I bother?”

“Sorry, I’m, uh, thinking.”

“I’d sooner believe you were flying than even consider you thinking behind those dead eyes of yours.”

 

Yuuri swallowed.  Maybe Yuri was right.  He wasn’t really thinking, just sort of wallowing.  He knew this was a defense mechanism; if he ignored everything, he wouldn’t feel as bad when he failed.  If no one saw him struggling, no one would know how weak he was.  These were safe thoughts.  Think about not thinking.  Yeah, that was a good plan.

“Earth to asshole!” Yuri practically shouted.  “You’re not on your box.  You’re gonna break an ankle winging your foot like that.”

Startled, Yuuri hopped off his box.  How long had Yuri been trying to get his attention.  Grumbling, the younger dansuer pushed his long hair out of his face..

“Honestly.  I have no idea what Viktor and Yakov see in you.”

“I don’t either.”

“Will you stop that?”

“What?”

“Every time I insult you, you just,” he flapped his hand in front of Yuuri’s face, struggling to find the right word, “accept it.  Confirm it. Whatever.  It takes the joy out it if you don’t fight back, you know.”

 

Yuuri actually smiled a little.  Even if Yuri was a bully, and kind of badly adjusted, he had his moments.  Yuuri didn’t want to flatter himself, but he wanted to think that Yuri liked him a little.

“If you’re too nice, people will just walk all over you.”

“You mean, like you do?”

“Exactly.  I don’t want anyone else finding out about this whole thing and ruining my private lessons.”

“Oh, I see.” Yuuri’s smile actually grew wider.  In a sense it was frightening, because he was  _ feeling things _ again, but he was also a little relieved because he could  _ still feel things _ .  “You’re only worried about me because you’re worried about yourself.”

“Good.  You’re finally starting to get it.”  Yuri ducked his head, so Yuuri pretended not to see the slight upward curve of his lips.

 

“I’m sorry.  You must think I’ve been ignoring you this week.”

Yuri shrugged noncommittally.  “It’s not just me.  Viktor’s been complaining everyday.  It’s fucking annoying.  Yesterday he followed me to my dorm, just to tell me how  _ sad _ and  _ unhappy _ you’ve looked.  I wanted to drop kick him from my balcony.”

“Oh, your dorms have balconies?  That’s really nice.  I wish I’d joined the Junior Company.”

“Not the point, Asshole!”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening to the first part.”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?”  Yuri tried to kick Yuuri’s standing leg out from underneath him when Yuuri sheepishly shrugged.  “Viktor won’t stop bugging me about you!  And not just me either!  Yakov and Chris are about ready to gag him with a thera-band!”

“Viktor?”

“Yeah, tall? Stupid silver hair? Never shuts up about you?  Pretty sure you’ve seen him around.”  Yuri turned and began some toe presses.  “Just...snap out of it soon, okay?  Everyone’s tired of dealing with a mopey Viktor.”

“Thanks, Yuri.  I appreciate the concern.”

Yuri huffed in response.

“Your ribbons are poking out.”

“Fuck you.”

They went through their usual warm up and barre routines without much more talk, but Yuuri tried to focus on the steps rather than letting himself blank out the way he’d been going through all his classes this week.  He could actually feel the burn in his thighs during dégagé’s when he pulled his legs together.  It was nice.  He made a very valiant effort not to think about the crushing weight of performing a very important, very difficult solo in front of a moderately sized crowd.  His valiant effort was rewarded with shaking hands and weak knees.

Yuri groaned.  “Listen, if you’re too tired to keep going, you should stop.  Yakov will be absolutely livid if you break an ankle.”

“I’m fine, I think.”

“You’re standing leg is shaking.”

Yuuri hopped off of pointe and grimaced.  Yuri gave a self-satisfied huff and went back to doing passé’s.  Yuuri watched him lift his leg up as he pressed his standing foot onto the platform of his shoe, then lower himself back down while simultaneously lowering his working leg back into a tight fifth position.  “You’re grip on the barre is too tight.  You’re relying on your arms too much.”

Yuri gave him a dirty look but relaxed his arms and tried again.  Halfway through his own attempt at passé, Yuuri stumbled off his point.  He had hopped up onto his box, and the shock of his big toe meeting the floor so harshly surprised him.

 

“Didn’t you hear me, Asshole?  You should stop--”  

“I can’t.  I need every bit of practice I can get.  This will help strengthen my legs.”

“The fuck?  That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t to someone who’s never had to work to be good,” Yuuri spat out.  He almost slapped himself with how quickly he covered his mouth with his hand.  Yuri’s dirty look faded for a split second then came back even dirtier than before.

 

“The hell is wrong with you today, huh?  You’re all distant and ignoring me, then when I show the slightest bit of concern for you, you fuckin--”

“I’m so sorry, I’m just really nervous, I didn’t mean it, I’m so sorry!”  The words tumbled out of Yuuri’s mouth faster than he could process them.  He knew he had a tendency to lash out when he was nervous, but Yuri wasn’t at fault here.

“Whatever.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”  Yuri grabbed his water bottle from the window sill and headed towards the door.  Yuuri called out to him before he got there.

“Wait, Yuri!  I’m really sorry.  I, uh, get really nervous about things, and then I tend to spiral, and I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you, I’m just really, really, anxious.”

“About the solo?” Yuri questioned.  It was hard to gauge what he was feeling from his tone.

“Yeah, I mean, I shouldn’t even be here, but getting a solo?  That’s just crazy, haha.  I don’t want to disappoint any one.”  He was rambling, why was he rambling?

 

Eyeing him suspiciously, Yuri said, “You shouldn't be here, in the studio practicing pointe, or you shouldn’t be here in the company?”

“Uh, both?” 

Yuri groaned and ran a hand through his blond hair.  “Listen, Dipshit.  I can’t really say much about being here in the studio dancing around like a couple of girls, but as far as you being in the company goes, who fucking cares?”

Yuuri opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Yuri interrupted him.

“No, really?  Who’s going to know that?  The audience?  They’re going to see you and assume that you passed the audition like everyone else.  So who fucking cares?”

“But what if I mess up?”

“Who fucking cares!” Yuri repeated throwing his hands in the air.  “If you mess up a step you make shit up!  Make it look like you meant to!  Did you not learn this as a child?”  Yuuri cringed; Yuri kept going.  “But you’re not gonna mess up because Viktor won’t let you.  I won’t let you either, got it?  You stole my spot in the company so you’d better at least make good use of it, you fuckin’ hear me?”

Then he swung the door open and stomped out.  Yuuri was left alone in the studio, knees still shaking.  Had that been...Yuri’s attempt at a pep talk?  Yuuri actually breathed out a small laugh, then gathered his own belongings and headed out the studio door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'd love to hear what you think of the AU so far! Comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated!! <3
> 
> [barrel turns](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yH7kn1Yr6PM)  
> [pirouette](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fm-XZCi9skQ)  
> [B plus](http://dancer.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/Positions-of-feet_bplus.jpg) is a very common starting position and pose for ballet, especially for center combinations  
> [sus-sous](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeMZCKiTSZ0) is essentially a relevé in fifth position except that one brings her front and back foot together while going up to the ball of her foot  
> [chasse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjFbdeKL7lw)  
> [pique turn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MO4_9E8NgR8)  
> [lame duck turn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=twrsObOVhG0) also known as step-over turns, are essentially pique turns that turn towards the standing leg, rather than the working leg, which requires an extra step.  
> [tour en l'air](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVN9als2atU)  
> [cabriole devant](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AnLycR0ovuY) For whatever reason, I can't find any good videos of just front (devant) cabrioles, so this video shows a variety of male jumps, and the cabriole devant is featured around 8:54 min. It's also a double, which means Baryshnikov beats his legs mid-air, which is insanely difficult!! Yuuri only does a single in the fic!  
> [fondu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hk9bfOoAtE0) (described in-fic as Yuri pressing his leg in and out of coupé, adding a Plié and relevé )  
> [dégagé](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eElTfdhdg5g)  
> [Toe presses](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eElTfdhdg5g) The second exercise shown around 0:26  
> Marking is how dancers learn lesson combinations and feel out space in a studio or stage. It's essentially doing a combination without actually doing the steps. The only time you will ever see dancers marking is during class or rehearsal, Never! On!! Stage!!! Our director would tell us to always do arms full-out, regardless of how sloppy our legs were during marking.  
> winging one's foot- in ballet, the ideal foot has a high arch, pointed toes and either a slight wing to the outside, or no wing at all. That being said, winging one's foot to drastically can cause problems, and if a dancer's ankles aren't strong enough to hold the wing on pointe, they can easily hurt themselves.  
> theraband- a highly elasticized band of rubber used in physical therapy, but used by dancers to increase strength and flexibility in the ankles  
> hopping/falling off pointe- ballerinas are supposed to have a very fluid shoe, even when on pointe. They really should not be "hopping" up onto their shoe, nor should they be falling off their shoe. They are supposed to be able to press against the floor with enough power that they can get over the box (the flat platform on the tip) of their shoe, as well as enough control to let them off their box without the shoe ever leaving the floor. Hopping on and off pointe suggests weak ankles and can lead to cracked toenails, broken bones, and sprains. That being said, hopping and falling on or off pointe are very difficult to avoid, and many professionals do both. It's a goal, or an ideal to have that much control over one's feet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for all the comments on the last chapter we really appreciate getting them!! I'm gonna try and respond to a few of them today! As always, specific ballet terms will have video links showing them in the end-notes! And comments or questions are always welcome!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for all the comments on the last chapter we really appreciate getting them!! I'm gonna try and respond to a few of them today! As always, specific ballet terms will have video links showing them in the end-notes! And comments or questions are always welcome!!

“Yuuri, you need to grab me higher up on my thigh,” Mila chastised.

“Uh, sorry, sorry!”   Yuuri hated this.  He hated partnering.  If it hadn’t been official before, it was definitely official now.  Mila was a good partner, but she teased him.  It was frustrating.

“Higher!”  She grabbed his hand and moved it barely an inch away from her crotch.  “Doesn’t that feel more stable?”

He could tell she was fucking with him.  Viktor motioned for them to try the fish again in their new position.  Yuuri could feel his ears burning.  The lift  _ was _ more stable this way.  He brought her back up quickly and stepped away from her.

“If you can do that as quickly as the music demands, I’d like to put it in,” Viktor commented.  “Can we run it from the end of the fouetté section?”

“You can grab me harder Yuuri, it’s not like I’ll break,” she grinned.  Yuuri tried not to look at her as he nodded and they took their positions.  Viktor counted for them and they ran through their échappé’s and passé’s, then took each others’ arms and transitioned to a more ballroom-y dance.  Yuuri’s hands were sweating a lot, and Mila felt like she was going to slip out of his hold during some of their turns.  When it came time for the fish, Yuuri took Mila’s advice and grabbed her almost roughly.  He aimed a little lower than when se’d had him holding her earlier, but the fish worked out just fine.  He brought her back up in a swift motion, then they both spun out of the dip as if it had never happened and struck their poses.

 

“Fantastic!” Viktor grinned at both of them.  “So we’ll put the fish in!”

Mila winked at Yuuri from across the room, so Yuuri gave a quick close-lipped smile in return.

“You can flirt back you know,” she teased him.  “And you can grab me wherever.”

“Uh,” Yuuri’s eyes went wide, and he directed his stare at the ground.

“Oh, Mila, leave him alone, will you?  He doesn’t know what a raging homosexual you are.”  Yuuri’s head snapped up to look at Viktor as he said it.

“Vitya!” She whined, “You’re ruining my fun!”

“I--” 

“She just likes teasing the newbie men.”

“Chris was all over me when he first got here.  Turns out he plays the same game though,” she pouted.

“So Chris is--”

“Flaming.  He doesn’t like labels though,” sighed Mila.

“Speaking of your blatant homosexuality,” Viktor began, “How is Sara?”

Mila perked up and out of her disappointment.  “She’s doing great!  A few more months and she can legally get her name changed!”

“Fantastic to hear,” Viktor grinned back.

“I’m still not forgiving you for ruining my fun with Yuuri though.”

“Oh, come on!”  Now it was Viktor’s turn to pout.  “He was practically red with embarrassment, Mila!  He’s supposed to be seducing you back!”

“Well that’s his problem isn’t it?”

“You’re coming on a little strong,” Yuuri muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”  Mila squinted at him with suspicion.  She turned back to Viktor and cocked a hip.

“I think you’re just jealous that you don’t get to dance with him,” she said with a smirk.

“Oh believe me, I get my fill of dancing with Yuuri quite easily.”  And his ears were on fire again.  He glanced at the door behind him wondering if he could make it out the door before Mila or Viktor noticed.

 

It wasn’t like Viktor had been lying, or anything.  It was just embarrassing for others to know about the countless hours Yuuri and Viktor had spent on Yuuri’s solos.  Every run through, there was something else Viktor needed to correct, and that inevitably meant Viktor’s hands all over Yuuri’s body, and if Yuuri said his teenaged crush on Viktor was a thing of the past, he was definitely  _ lying _ .  He didn’t know when it had come back, but it was probably around the time that Viktor straight up told Yuuri to _ seduce him _ .  God, he felt so stupid just thinking about it.

“Well then it must be my title then,” Mila said, still smiling slyly at Viktor.

“You don’t have a title,” he scoffed back her.

“Uh, yes I do.”

“Alright, I’ll bite.  What title do you have that I could possibly be jealous of?”

“Queen of the Gays.”

Viktor’s jaw dropped.  “Excuse you!” he almost yelled, “ _ I _ am the Queen of the Gays!   _ Me _ !”

After taking a few steps to approach him, Mila gently patted his cheek and gave him a mock frown.  “You keep telling yourself that, Sweetheart.”  And then she chasséd away, laughing.

 

“Does that make me a prince, then?  Or maybe like a lord or something,” Yuuri wondered more to himself than to Viktor or Mila.

“Why would you be a prince, huh, Yuuri?  You holding out on us?”  Mila was still chasséing around the studio, but she slowed down when she asked.

“Do you not want to be my king?” Viktor joked.

“Well, I’m only like, half gay.”

They both gave him skeptical looks.  Then Viktor asked, “Are you bi?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you’re a whole bi then, Yuuri,” Mila laughed, picking up speed again.  “And you can still be King of the Gays if you’re bi.”

“Oh, I’m not ready to bear the responsibility of kingship,” Yuuri put his hands up as if that would keep the responsibilities away.  “I’d much rather be a prince.  But not like, the crown prince.  Or maybe a princess.”

Mila stopped her chassé’s to burst into laughter.  When Yuuri looked to Viktor, he was grinning back, just barely containing his own laughter.

“What?”

“You’re very cute, Yuuri,” Mila said, standing up straight.  “You can be the Prince of the Gays.  Or the princess.  Whatever you want.”

“O-okay.”  God he was so stupid, taking a joke so seriously.  But even while that thought chaînéd it’s way around his mind, there was a small voice that broke through that said, “You made Viktor laugh!  You made him look like that!”   Yuuri had to admit, he liked the way Viktor’s eyes closed when his smile got to big.  It was like there was too much joy for his face.  Or something stupid like that.

“From the top with music?” Viktor asked.

“Gimme a minute to catch my breath,” replied Mila.

 

And barely three minutes later they were practically tangoing around one another.  Victor had incorporated quite a few different dance styles into the ballet, so some of the steps, such as the ones they were going through now, were still slightly foreign to Yuuri and Mila.  He gripped her hips and spun her around until she grabbed his shoulder to initiate a dip.  Then came the fouetté section, which Mila had told him she hated.  That wasn’t unusual, but he made sure that as they prepped for it, he held her carefully, and that his back leg was planted firmly on the ground so he could keep her on balance.  She went through the turns beautifully, and Viktor was clapping as they switched back into their ballroom hold.  The music swirling around them quickly led back to that fish, but there was something wrong.

Yuuri didn’t know if had grabbed too low on her working leg again, or maybe she wasn’t holding herself well enough.  It didn’t matter.  Yuuri could feel her slipping out of his sweaty hands, so he tried to whip her back up as quickly as he could, only to have her land a pointe shoe on his front foot.  Yuuri barely managed to contain himself as he feels a blister break.

“Shit,” he managed to squeak out, against his own intentions.  He did his best to keep Mila upright, and luckily she dropped her leg quick enough to catch herself, but Yuuri felt his stomach drop as she pitched forward.  The music stopped.

“Are you two okay?” Viktor jumped towards them as he spoke.  “That was close.  What happened?”

“Don’t know,” Yuuri gritted out.

“I think my leg was too low.”  Mila ran a hand through her bangs.

“Are you okay Yuuri?  You look like you’re in pain.”

“Fine, just startled.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you even chassé?  You look like you’re gonna cry.”

“I’m not!” he defended.  “I mean, I can!”  He chasséd towards Viktor to show him, but a grimace warped his face as his shoe pressed against the raw skin on his foot.

“Okay.  We’ll call it a day then.”  Yuuri gawked at him, but Viktor just shrugged.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I’m ready for a break,” Mila said.  “I’m ready to go home.  I have a Skype date, and I kinda want to shower before that.”

“Tell Sara and Michele that I say Hi!” Viktor smiled.

“Sure, sure,” she replied with a wave of her hand.

 

“Uh,” Yuuri watched her leave, then glanced back at Viktor.  He was just standing there with his arms crossed, studying him with narrowed eyes.  “Are we going to practice longer tonight?  For the solo?”

“No.  You obviously need a night to rest.  What’s wrong with your feet?”

“I told you.  I get blisters.”

“Why?  Your shoes don’t look too tight.”

Yuuri shrugged.  “Don’t know.  I just do.”

“Well, then you need to get better shoes.  Or tape your feet up.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Yuuri mumbled.  He made a mental note to mention tape to Yuri.  Maybe it would help better than the band aids they used.

“Do you want to go out to dinner?”

“What?!”

“Dinner.  You wanna go out?”  Viktor stepped toward the CD player and took the Carmen CD out.  As he snapped it back into the case he said, “Chris said he’d go with me, but his boyfriend wanted him to go home right away.  I’ll be lonely if I go alone.”

“Why not ask Mila?”

“Skype date?”

“Right.  Uh--”

“Please?”

“I, uh I’m not sure--”

“Yuu-ri!” he whined.  “We’ve been dancing together for almost three months and I don’t know anything about you!  Can’t you humor me for one night?”

“T-There’s nothing to know.”

“Oh come on, please?”  Viktor pleaded.  Yuuri held the door open for Viktor and they stepped into the dimly lit lobby.  Maybe if he could bide his time until they left the building, Viktor would let him go.

“I really shouldn’t.”  Yuuri pulled his slippers off his feet, watching as Viktor did the same.  “I should get home and get to bed.”

“It’s only eight!” Viktor protested.  He was slipping his feet into some fluffy looking boots, pouting at Yuuri.  Yuuri turned to drop his slippers into his bag, but he was distracted and he misstepped.  His bag tumbled off the white plastic chair it had been resting on, and some of its contents slipped out.

 

Yuuri blanched.  The thing about pointe shoes was that they were heavy.  They were much heavier than any of his other dance shoes, save maybe the tap shoes he’d worn for a year when he was seven.  The point was, his pointe shoes usually shifted their way to the bottom of his bag.  He didn’t need to worry about shoving them underneath all the bottles of ibuprofen, or sewing supplies, or the countless unmatched ballet slippers he had piled in there.  They just fell into the bottom on their own.  For whatever reason, they hadn’t done that today.  He was static for a moment just staring at them on the floor, the he scrambled to the mess on the floor, desperately trying to scoop them back into his bag.

“Yuuri?” Viktor called.   _ Shit. _  “I wanted to know if fast food was o--”

 

_ Shit shit shit _

 

Yuuri shoved his hands into his bag and just sat there.  Maybe Viktor hadn’t seen?  The angle was strange, so maybe he hadn’t--

“What are those?”

“What?”

“Were those--”

“Fast food sounds good.  There’s a Burger King near here, I think.”

“What’s in your hands?”

“Uh, just knocked over my bag.  Shoes fell out.”  He started picking up the other, less incriminating slippers and stuffing them into his bag, but suddenly Viktor was in his space, taking his bag out of his hands.

“Viktor!” Yuuri practically shouted in surprise.

“You might be good at evading questions, but you’re a terrible liar.  I haven’t pressed you because I respect your privacy, but really Yuuri?”  Viktor pulled the pointe shoes out of his bag with little fanfare, and Yuuri couldn’t help the shame that pinched the back of his throat.

“I can explain.”

“Let me see your feet.”

“What?”

“I’m assuming your feet are always so sore and covered in blisters because of these, no?”

“I--”

“Show me your feet.”  Viktor practically pushed Yuuri into the chair beside them and knelt in front of him.  He gingerly took one of Yuuri’s feet in his hand and squinted against the darkness of the room.

 

“You’re bleeding here,” he poked the spot that had been throbbing since Mila stepped on his foot earlier.  “And you’ve got two blood blisters here.”  He tapped on Yuuri’s bunion lightly.  Yuuri tried to pull his foot out of Viktor’s hands, but Viktor just grabbed his ankle.  “What kind of toe pads have you been using?  Why do you have so many cracked toenails?”

“The regular ones.”

“You might need to double up,” he sighed.  He pressed a thumb into the arch of Yuuri’s foot and Yuuri practically howled.

“Stop!  Stop!”

“This is for your own good!” Viktor was smiling devilishly now.  Yuuri used his other foot to kick Viktor’s legs out from under him, but Viktor still held onto his foot somehow.

“Stop!  That hurts!”

“It’ll feel better in a second, just hold on.”  Seeing as that kick hadn’t worked, Yuuri didn’t have much choice.  He stamped his free foot into the floor when suddenly something in Yuuri’s arch relaxed and all the pain disappeared.

“What the--”

“Have you even been to the masseuse?”

“No.”

“You should go.  You’ve got more stress bundled up in your muscles than little Yuri has anger in his whole body.”

“It’s not necessary.”  Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s other foot.  “Oh God, not again,” he breathed out.  VIktor pressed into his arch again, and again there was a sharp shooting pain that ran between all the little bones in his foot.

“Trust me.  It’s necessary.  You’re flexible when you stretch, sure, but after all that you tense up during your dancing.  I’ve mentioned it to you several times.  I think visiting the masseuse might help that.”

“Hmm.”

 

Yuuri squirmed against the chair in silence until his foot relaxed.  Once Viktor was satisfied that it has actually loosened up, he began inspecting it.

“So why are you practicing pointe work?”

“Ankle strength.”

“Lying still isn’t one of your strong points.”

“Was that a pun?”

“Not intentionally.  What’s the real reason?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.  No one puts themselves through this much pain for nothing.”

Now Yuuri was shifting in his seat for a completely different reason.  Viktor didn’t seem like he’d think it was weird, but--

He remembered Celestino’s shocked face and felt his hands begin to shake.  He could see the company girls whispering behind their hands and giving him  strange looks as he passed them each day.  He could feel Phichit’s hand rubbing cirlces on his back telling him it was okay to want this, that it was okay to want to be--

“It’s really nothing.”

“Yuuri--”

“It’s honestly just for strength training.”

Viktor pursed his lips, obviously disappointed.  “You don’t trust me do you?”

“It’s not--”

“I think I already know why you’re practicing pointe work, Yuuri.  I just wanted to hear it from you.  But if you don’t trust me, I guess I can’t force you.”  With one last press to the bottom of Yuuri’s foot, he let Yuuri go.  Yuuri’s stomach was in his throat, and he could feel his eyes pricking with tears that had no right being there.  He had disappointed Viktor.  He had disappointed him.  Even over the last three months, Yuuri couldn’t think of a single time he’d disappointed Viktor like this.  And now Viktor was getting up to leave.

“I want to be pretty,” he blurted out.  “I want to dance on pointe, like the girls do.  I want to be able to float across stage like they do.”

Viktor’s eyes were wide, but Yuuri couldn’t read his emotions.  Yuuri squeezed his pointe shoes in shaking hands, ashamed.  He tried to look down, but Viktor’s fingers caught his chin.

“Would you like help with that?”

 

~

 

“So what are you and Yuuri doing when I’m not around?”

Yuri’s grip on the barre tightened imperceptibly, but he kept his face calm.  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not dumb, Yuri.”  Otabek tapped Yuri’s cheek to make him tilt his head to the side.  “Tighter fifth position.”  Yuri obliged with a soft grumble.  “You two have been pretty friendly over the last month.  I’m starting to get jealous.”

“What, you want time with the fatass?”

“No.”

“Oh.”  Otabek had a way of saying a lot by not saying anything.  It had frustrated Yuri at first because it felt like he was trying to play a fucking crossword every time they interacted.  But after a few weeks, Yuri learned that’s just how Otabek was.  Yuri came down out of his sus-sous.  “You don’t need to be jealous of Yuuri.  We’re just comparing notes, and let me tell you, you’re a way better teacher than Viktor, if Yuuri’s to be believed.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, all Vitya does is flirt by the sound of it.  I swear he’ll find any reason to put his shitty little hands all over Yuuri.”

“Do you hate it when I touch you?”

“What?!”

“When I correct you by turning your head or putting my hands on your legs, do you dislike that?”

Yuri blew out a huffy breath.  “No.”

“Okay.”

“Viktor just pisses me off.  He’s not using his time with Yuuri for anything but, like, you know…”

Otabek stared at him blankly, like he almost always did.  Yuri unwrapped his legs from around one another and switched sides.

“He’s being selfish with Yuuri’s time.”

“You want to spend more time with Yuuri?”

“I never said that, asshole!”  He pushed his foot out in a tendu, then pliéd.  He tried not to grimace as the shoe on his standing foot stretched over the newest of his blisters.  Fuck Yuuri and his stupid ideas and fuck Otabek for making Yuri practice after rehearsal, fuck everyone, but especially fuck Viktor.  It was his fault that Yuri was even in this position.

 

“Straighten your leg.”

Fuck Otabek.

“It’s straight!”

Otabek cocked a slanted eyebrow, so Yuri flexed again and straightened out his leg.

“Then why do you care if he’s wasting Yuuri’s time?”

“He’s only trying to get into Yuuri’s tights,” Yuri spat.  “It’s disgusting.”

“Yuuri’s improved a lot since joining the company.  His partnering has gotten much better.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So Viktor isn’t wasting his time.”

“Whatever,” Yuri said with a quick frappé to the side.  He didn’t want to think about this anymore.  He didn’t want to have to investigate his own intentions.  He didn’t want to be like Viktor.

“Am I being selfish with your time?”

“What?!”

Otabek shrugged.  “Do you feel that your time with me was been ineffectual?  Am I being selfish with you?”

“No!  What the hell?  Stop putting words in my mouth would you?”

“Good.  I’m glad.”

“The hell would you even think that?”

“It’s an excuse to spend time with you, to be honest.”

Yuri froze.  Oh.   _ Oh. _

“I’ve been wondering what you were getting out of this,” he muttered.

“Head up, Yuri.”

“Don’t change the subject!  Why would you want to be selfish with my time?”

“Because we’re similar.”

“And how do you figure that?”

“You work hard, and you’re ridiculously focused.  You hold yourself with more dignity than a soldier.”  He paused for a moment and considered the back of Yuri’s head.  "I told you when I proposed this.  I’m interested in you.”

 

Yuri was glad he wasn’t facing Otabek so he couldn’t see how red his face was.  He knew all that!  He knew he was all those things!  Did Otabek think he could flatter Yuri into...into…

What?  What would he be trying to get out of Yuri?

“So are we friends, or…?” Otabek's tone was neutral, as always, despite the impatience of his words.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I-I guess.  Yeah.  I guess we’re friends.”

“I’m glad.”

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [échappé](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FC4l8FGnHRE)  
> [chasse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjFbdeKL7lw)  
> [chaîné turns](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zYXeKOcdFso)  
> [Fifth position](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/38/Ballet_feet_5th_position.png/170px-Ballet_feet_5th_position.png)  
> [sus-sous](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeMZCKiTSZ0) A sus-sous is essentially a relevé in fifth position except that one brings her front and back foot together while going up to the ball of her foot  
> [tendu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GaFJJh3w6s8%22%22)  
> [frappé](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aMLxWGmKyq4)  
> [Plié and relevé](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjEjc6Qka0U)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is late! I got very busy with Voltron parties and friends and such, so I couldn't post on time, but this will not affect next week's post hopefully! Enjoy!

Yuuri hated costume fittings.  He hated having to shimmy his way into tight fitting spandex and stiff spangly canvas.  And if that wasn’t enough, Lilia was the one with pins between her lips, tutting at his posture.  Apparently, after her accident, she’d refused to leave the Moscow Ballet Company, and the director had told her to make herself useful.  So she moved into the costuming department, and stayed there for thirty years.

 

“Stop slouching, _bozhe_ , your posture is terrible.”

“Sorry!”

“And stop wiggling unless you want a pin in your side.”

“Lilia!” Viktor whined from his place on the dressing room couch, “Be kind to my apprentice, wouldn’t you?”

“I’m trying, but he keeps moving!”

“Sorry!”  Yuuri did his best to straighten his back, while also not moving.  Lilia had him in a rather ill-fitting black vest currently.  She was sticking all kinds of pins and clips into the sides, marking where she needed to take the vest in.  Yuuri was just glad that his weight was no longer an issue, even if the stretch marks on his stomach and thighs still made him a little self conscious.

“Why are you making him a new jacket, hmm?  I’m pretty sure my jacket from Pequita would work just fine, wouldn’t it?” Viktor mused.  Lilia stilled a moment, then pressed a pin into the fabric.

“I had forgotten you even wore that jacket.  We’ll see how it fits him after I’m done pinning this mock up.”

Viktor flipped over onto his back and sighed heavily.  “I can’t believe you’d forget that costume. One of your better, in my opinion.”

“And we all desire your opinion, constantly, Vitya.”

“I know, I know, I talk too much.”  And then the rest of their conversations was lost in curt Russian quips between themselves.

 

Yuuri glanced up at the thin, stringy vest hanging over his shoulders.  He had mostly gotten used to not understanding his company mates and directors, but it still made him uncomfortable.  And when he heard his name, he could never tell if they were talking about him or little Yuri.  Sometimes they’d refer to him as Yurotchka, and Yuuri was just Yuuri, but it was still confusing.  And Viktor sometimes got called Vitya, and sometimes Georgi was Gosha and Mila was Ludmila, and it was all very confusing.

“Why does everyone call you Vitya?” he heard himself asking.  He felt bad for interrupting Lilia, but Viktor’s attention was immediately on him.

“Oh it’s just a Russian thing.  A nickname.  You can call me Vitya too, if you like.  Or even Viten’ka, if you’d like.”  Viktor gave him a wink in the mirror, and Lilia began speaking in aggravated Russian.

“Oh, I see.”

“Do you have a nickname, Yuuri?  I’m sure they’re different in Japanese.”  Viktor was completely ignoring Lilia’s huffy upbraiding, and staring at Yuuri intently.

“Ah, no, not really.”

“That’s no fun!  No one ever thought to give you a childhood nickname or anything like that?”

“Uh, well, they did, but it wasn’t exactly flattering.”  When Viktor didn’t respond, but blinked patiently, Yuuri sighed and continued.  “Kids in grade school called me _kobuta-chan_.  It means little piglet, because I was fat.”

“Hmm, that’s cute though.”

 

“Vitya!” Lilia snapped.  “Can’t you keep quiet for a minute?  That was very rude of them, Yuuri.  I’m sure they all regret their behavior.”

Her words surprised Yuuri a little, considering how gruff she usually was.  “Uh, thank you.  It’s fine now.  I know how to manage my weight.”

“Well, if I were to give you a nickname in Japanese, how would I do that?  We can’t very well call you Yurotchka.  Little Yuri might combust if we did.”

“It would be Yuu-chan, but that would be too...confusing.”

“How so?”

“I have a friend back home with that nickname.  I can’t think of it as mine.”  Not to mention having someone call him that would be mortifying, even back home.  Hearing it from Viktor might actually kill him.

“You have a friend named Yuuri back home?  Is it really that common a name?”

“No, her name is Yuuko.  But both our names start with the same letter, character, uh, thing, so it just works out that we’d have the same nickname.  I guess you could always go with Yuuri-kun, but that’s almost more formal than just calling me by my name the way you have.”

“More formal?”

“Uh yeah,” Yuuri pushed his glasses up hi nose, going against Lilia’s soft fussing.  “It’s a Japanese name thing.  You use honorifics unless you’re very close.  But Western names don’t really do that, so…”

“Oh.”

“Take this off,” Lilia said with a swat to the fabric.  “I’ll go get little Viten’ka’s old costume.”

Viktor grinned rudely back at Lilia’s obvious mocking tone.  When her back was turned, he stuck out his tongue petulantly.  Yuuri had to stifle a snort.  He slipped out of the thin vest, careful of the pins sticking out every which way.

 

“We’re practicing en pointe tonight,” Viktor said softly.  “And I want to see what you can do _off_ the barre tonight.”

“I don’t think I can do anything off the barre,” Yuuri admitted back.  They’d had two practice sessions since Viktor had asked if Yuuri wanted his help, and neither time had Yuuri left the barre.  The thought of doing center work was terrifying.  He knew he was probably strong enough to do it, but the fear of rolling an ankle, or pulling a muscle, or--

“You’re stronger than you think.  Just keep from winging your feet so much, and you should be fine.”

That was all well and good for mister principal dancer, Yuuri thought to himself, but remembering that on top of everything else, on top of all the pressure of being in the company?  Yuuri clenched his jaw in frustration.  He probably could do it.  But what if he couldn’t?

“Viktor was much broader in the shoulders than you when he wore this,” Lilia emerged from the storage room in the back holding a stiff jacket covered in gold and red embellishments.  Yuuri took it from her and held it to his chest.

“Just as sparkly as I remember,” Viktor joked.  “I’m just glad you laid off the sequins for this one.  They always get caught on everything.”

“Sequins catch light.  And for someone so intent on being the center of attention,  you shouldn’t complain about catching light,” she huffed back.  As Yuuri inspected the jacket in the mirror, he realized Viktor was right.  There were sequins, but not nearly as many as Yuuri was used to.  Instead the embellishments were almost exclusively applique and lace.  The tails of the coat were made of a flimsy sheer fabric, so they wouldn’t interfere with tours or turns.  Yuuri liked it, but he knew immediately that it wouldn’t fit him.  He put it on over his tanktop regardless, unsurprised when Viktor and Lilia regarded him critically.

 

“I could always take it in here,” Lilia said.  She pinched the excess fabric near Yuuri’s waist and hummed.  “But your hips are too wide.  I’d have to add another panel on each side.  And your shoulders…”  The padding in the shoulders made Yuuri look ridiculous, and the sleeves were just barely too long.

“Too cute to really be a matador,” Viktor lamented.  “Perhaps something from my Junior days would fit him better?”

“You can go look for yourself then.  I almost coughed up a lung with all the dust back there.”

Viktor pouted, but finally hauled himself off the couch.  Yuuri took the jacket off and handed it back to Lilia.  She took it and looked at it lovingly.

“This always was one of my favorites,” she whispered.  Then she smiled at Yuuri.  “I’m glad you joined the company.  Viktor used to be quite unbearable.”

“I’m sorry?”  Yuuri honestly didn’t understand.

“Since taking you on as an apprentice, he’s been much more focused.  He used to skip rehearsals and ignore Yakov.”

“He doesn’t ignore Yakov now?”

“Oh, of course he does, but it was much worse last year.  He’d mope too.  Again, more than he does now.  Now he just mopes about you,” she chuckled.

“That’s kind of you to say, but I’m sure it has very little to do with me.”

Lilia stared at him for a long moment.  “Remind me sometime to show you the rehearsal videos from last season.”

“Why?”

“You’re the kind of person who only trusts what they can see.  We’re very similar in that way.  If you see the rehearsal videos, I think you’ll see what I mean.”

“Oh.”

“Lilia~!” Viktor practically shouted as he burst through the door, several costumes dripping out his arms.  “I forgot how many costumes I had!  Do you remember this one?  From  when I was Puck?”  It was a ridiculous thing, made out of gauzy spandex and sparkles.  It was mostly flesh-toned, but green where it was covered in leaves.

 

“I thought you were looking for suitable costumes for Yuuri, not reliving your career.”

Viktor’s face dropped a little, but then he grinned again.  “There’s no harm in him trying on all of them, is there?  Just for fun?”

“I’m not wearing that,” Yuuri deadpanned.  There was way too much skin showing for him to be remotely comfortable with that one.  Viktor pouted.

“Fine, what about this one?”  It was red and resembled a soldier’s uniform.  “From my first Nutcracker.  I was a toy soldier.”

“Looks too small,” Yuuri dismissed.  When he glanced over at Lilia, he noticed a sly smile curving her lips.

“Don Quixote?” Viktor said, holding up another jacket, this time black with gold epaulets and tassels.  “It looks like a matador’s outfit at least.”

“Traje de luces,” Lilia corrected.  “And it does, but what really matters is the fit.  Yuuri?”

Yuuri took the jacket from him, and slipped his arms through, not expecting much.  Strangely enough, it fit almost perfectly.  Lilia put some pins in the sleeve cuffs so she could hem them later, but other than that, it fit him fine.  Viktor gave that stupid smile he always gave Yuuri when he had a good run through, and suddenly Yuuri wanted to be out of the costume as quickly as possible.

“Would you be comfortable wearing this on stage?” Lilia asked.  “I’ll be modifying it for the performance, so it won’t have all this gold mess on it.”

“I like that ‘gold mess’!” Viktor complained.

“It doesn’t suit his complexion,” Lilia said without batting an eye.

“I-I guess.”

“It’ll be much less work for me if you use this one.  Saves me from having to make a whole other jacket.”

“I’ll wear it then.”

 

She raised an eyebrow, but eventually nodded.  “Take it off.  Get back to rehearsal.  I’m sure Yakov is fuming by now.”  Yuuri stripped the jacket off and flew out of the costume room, Viktor right behind him.

“I’m surprised you’re in such a rush to rehearse,” he mused.

“Wouldn’t want to keep Yakov waiting.  It always makes him cranky.”

“He’s working with Chris and Mila right now.”

“Well, better to be early.”  They descended the stairs and headed towards studio one in silence.  When they were almost at the door, Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s wrist and held him back a moment.

“Studio two, upstairs like usual.  Practice tonight.”

“A-Alright.”

“Okay.”  And with a nod, Viktor let got of his hand, then pushed the door open and strode into the studio.  Yuuri could barely hear Yakov’s irritated voice over Viktor’s laugh.

 

~

 

“I’m too wobbly to move to the center,” Yuuri sighed.  VIktor was holding both his hands and trying to get him forward to the open floor.  Yuuri could feel the tension in his arms, but refused to move.

“Yuuri!  You’re just being stubborn!”

“What if I am?  I’d rather be stubborn than injured.”

“Please?”

Yuuri glanced down at their hands and nervously grit his teeth.  “Don’t let go.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m going up then.”  Yuuri pressed through his feet and wobbled up onto the platform of his box.  Viktor gently pulled him forward.  Yuuri bourréed forward, but he cringed at the effort it took.  He managed to move towards Viktor by essentially slamming the tips of his toes into the ground over and over.  Then he fell off his box.

“Sorry.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Viktor.”

“Was I pulling too hard?”

“No, I just fell off.”

“Here, let’s try this.”  Viktor used his hold on Yuuri’s hands to pull him into Viktor’s chest, then spun him around.  “I’ll hold your hips.  Does that feel more stable?”

Yuuri’s head was still trying to turn with the rest of his body, and feeling Viktor’s hands on his hips and his breath in his ear wasn’t helping.

 

“Y-yeah, I think so.”

“Sou-sous,” Viktor prompted.  Yuuri pulled up onto pointe again, feeling much more on balance.  “Can you passé?”  Yuuri pulled one foot up to his standing knee.  “Point your foot.  Harder.  Come on, your shoes are hard now, work your arch!”

“I’m trying!”

“Développé.”

Yuuri obliged again.

“Arms in third.”

“Wait, you’re not going to make me--”

“Rond de jambe!” Viktor said grinning.  He swiveled Yuuri’s hips, then spun him around.

“Viktor!” Yuuri yelled.  His breath caught as he began to turn, and he knew he was going to fall flat on his face.  But then Viktor’s hands were back on his hips, holding him upright.  He lost count of how many times Viktor spun him, but when he finally stilled, leg still in passé, Viktor took one of his hands and led him back to two feet.

 

“That was beautiful, Yuuri!”

“Don’t scare me like that!  I need a little warning if you’re gonna do something like that!”

“Something like this?”  Viktor used his hold on Yuuri’s hand to spin him once, then pull him into a ballroom dip.

“What did I just say?!” Yuuri almost laughed.

“What can _I_ say?  I see talent, and I have to use it.”

“Now you’re just talking nonsense.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so.”  Viktor scanned Yuuri’s eyes for a moment, with serious a face at odds with his playful voice.

“Wh-what?”

“Nothing.  Your feet just look familiar.  Probably just deja vu.”

“Now you’re just being weird.”

Viktor pulled Yuuri upright, and Yuuri stepped away.  Viktor looked very thoughtful for a moment, like he was wracking his mind for a memory, but then the moment passed and his cheerful smile crawled back onto his face.

 

“Not weird, just flighty.”

“Oh, so you’re aware of your fickle nature.”

“It’s hard not to be when everyone seems so intent on reminding me of it.”  He started Yuuri on a jump combination, hands on Yuuri’s hips again.  Yuuri followed along, and Viktor pressed him up into the grand jeté.  “I knew you were a good partner, but I never knew you’d be so versatile,” Viktor joked.

“Phichit used to practice his partnering with me.  I’m used to it.”

“I’d almost forgotten about that.”

“Did he send you videos?”

“No, I found them after your audition.”  Viktor let him go when Yuuri pulled away.  He rose up onto his toes, facing away.

“Oh.”

Viktor watched him for a few silent seconds.  He just couldn’t figure out where he’d seen Yuuri’s feet before.  

“Weight over your big toe,” he reminded.  Yuuri corrected his feet right away.

“I just wish he’d stop posting videos and photos of me,” Yuuri said quietly.

“He wouldn’t have to if you had an instagram yourself, you know.  It’s natural to want to show off your friends.”

“I guess.  It’s just embarrassing.”

“You know, you ought to thank him.  It’s because of him that you’re here.”

“That’s true.”

“And if you want to be pretty, you’re well on your way.”  Yuuri flustered when Viktor said “pretty”.

 

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not!  Here.  Let’s see how well you fare with the jump section of your pas de deux.”

“W-with Mila?”

“Yes.  You know her part, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s do it.”

“Together?”

“That jeté looked nice.  I’m sure you’ll be fine.”  He laughed when Yuuri gave him a blank look.

“If you drop me, Yakov is going to kill you.”

“We’ve partnered before--”

“Briefly,” Yuuri interrupted, “and in soft shoes.”

“Come on, Carmen, let’s go.”

“Don’t call me that.”  Nevertheless, Yuuri took the pose Mila usually took just before they started their jump section together.  Viktor stood behind him, presenting him to the nonexistent audience.  They began together, with Viktor counting softly, helping Yuuri along in the small jumps from one foot to the other, lifting him up and over easily.  Surprisingly, Yuuri’s anxieties disappeared only two counts of eight into it.

It was like when he danced for Viktor nothing else mattered.  Viktor’s hands on his waist certainly helped calm him, but just having him around, having him be the _only_ one around, made Yuuri’s jumps more buoyant.

Viktor tossed him about for that section, as Yuuri usually did for Mila, then they transitioned into the ballroom section.  Yuuri stumbled a few times, since he had to reverse his usual steps, but once he had the rhythm, they could tango across the room with no issue.  Yuuri popped up into sou-sous and wrapped his arms around Viktor’s shoulders and let him drag them both across the stage, then wrap an arm around Yuuri’s lower back and flick Yuuri’s legs up so they could wrap around Viktor’s hips.  Yuuri had to laugh when Viktor let out a soft grunt of exertion.  They didn’t stay in that position long, as Viktor dropped him into the dip and brought him around for the fouetté section.

 

Yuuri balked for just a second, which caused Viktor stop counting.  “We can skip these for now,” he said softly.

“I-I can do them, I think.”

“I’m right behind you.”

Viktor began counting again, almost gentler than before.  Yuuri pulled his leg up into passé again, and let his own momentum and Viktor’s hands keep him steady.  He ended up turning and landing perfectly, then letting Viktor spin him around, rewrap his arms around Yuuri, and lift.

Phichit and Yuuri had done fishes together back in Detroit, but they’d never felt this way, Yuuri realized with a small giggle.  Viktor’s hands were much bigger than Phichit’s, and it was obvious that Viktor had much more experience, since Yuuri had no fear of falling, but there was something else swimming behind Yuuri’s glasses that he couldn’t name.  Yuuri grabbed hold of that feeling.  He grabbed hold of the giddy feeling of desirability, and when Viktor set him back on his pointe flawlessly (of course it was flawless.  It was Viktor, afterall), Yuuri cocked an eyebrow and struck his pose.  Mila had a bit of a solo that Yuuri was not completely familiar with, so he improvised some more jumps and traveling turns, while Viktor watched from his pose.  Yuuri could feel himself smirking as he flitted towards Viktor with a few steps, then spun away before Viktor’s outstretched fingers could wrap around his.  With a hand on his hip and the other sweeping down and up with every step, he did a quick lame duck turn in back attitude.  A few more pas de basque’s and waltz turns, and Yuuri was just far enough away for Viktor to begin Escamillo’s next steps.  Instead, Viktor began improvising his own steps as well, but rather than skirting around Yuuri, Viktor seemed to be dancing towards Yuuri.  As he got closer, chasséing and jetéing towards him, Yuuri made room by backing up.

 

Then Yuuri’s back hit the barres, and he realized Viktor had cornered him.  Viktor’s hands came down to brace on either side of Yuuri’s hips and wrapped around the top barre.

Yuuri could feel the excitement of his steps shifting into something else.  Anxiety?  No, Yuuri was familiar with that feeling, and he had to say that this was much more positive.  Anticipation?  Maybe.  The way Viktor was breathing at him, panting with lidded eyes made Yuuri’s toes curl in his stiff shoes.

“V-Viktor?” he breathed.  Viktor seemed to remember where they were just then.  His eyes snapped open wide and he pushed off the barre to stand up straight.

“Ah, sorry Yuuri!” He grinned.  Scratching the back of his head he added, “We got a little caught up in the moment, didn’t we?” Then he laughed.  “Those step overs you did earlier were amazing!  And to think you were all scared to get in the center.”

“W-well, I wasn’t really thinking about it.  It’s harder to think about steps if I’m just making them up.”

“Regardless, I was quite surprised.  Maybe we should have cast you as Carmen.”

Yuuri laughed outright.  “You’re already testing Yakov’s patience giving me a solo.  Don’t push im any further.”

“How are your feet feeling?”

“As good as they can.”

“Could we run through that again?”

Yuuri only gave a quick nod in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [bourree](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EX4y-YNlybE)  
> [sus-sous](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeMZCKiTSZ0) A sus-sous is essentially a relevé in fifth position except that one brings her front and back foot together while going up to the ball of her foot  
> [développé](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m4A6PLeGIB4)  
> [](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoNaYf6hkAs)Rond de jambe  
> [partnered fouttes (The first turn in the video is the first turn that Yuuri and Viktor do together)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MoaDv1hxv8%22%22)  
> [](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoNaYf6hkAs)Rond de jambe  
> [fouette](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fo250jmBl6I) (We reference the turns, at the beginning of the video)  
> [lame duck turn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=twrsObOVhG0) also known as step-over turns, are essentially pique turns that turn towards the standing leg, rather than the working leg, which requires an extra step.  
>  Comments and questions are always appreciated! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning for mentions of an eating disorder, and symptoms of anxiety!

“J.J’s being an asshole.”

“That’s normal.”

“No, like, he’s being a bigger asshole than usual.  He’s almost as mopey as Viktor when Yuuri ignores him.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Yuri was sitting on Otabek’s pointed feet, scrolling through Instagram.  He paused on Viktor’s newest post and grimaced.  God, he was so fuckin’ stupid, falling for that _other_ Yuuri.  How Yuuri didn’t notice it, he couldn’t understand.  The picture was of them at a Chinese take out place, Viktor’s arm thrown around Yuuri’s shoulders.  Viktor was practically beside himself with joy, and Yuuri looked pleased, if not surprised by the sudden selfie.  He scrolled past it without liking it.

 

“I want him to fuck off.”

“I know.”

“More than usual.”

“I know.”

“Hmmm,” he growled when Isabella’s photo rolled up.  Again, another fucking couple selfie, J.J. planting a sloppy kiss to her cheek.  She had the dog filter slapped on her face too.  God, those two were so basic it hurt.  He didn’t bother reading the caption.

“Why do girls think the dog filter is cute?  It’s not.  The cat filter looks better.”

Otabek only grunted in response.

“One time I put the cat filter on Koshechka.  She was even prettier than usual.”

 

Otabek gave a breathy laugh, and Yuri couldn’t help but look backwards at his friend.  Otabek’s laughs were scant, but highly satisfying for Yuri because their infrequency.  Yuri had never seen anyone else make Otabek laugh, and secretly he wanted to keep those low chuckles to himself.

“Has there been a bear filter?”

“Hmm.  I don’t know.  Why do you like bears so much anyway?”

Otabek shrugged, then shook his feet to get Yuri to stand up off of them.  “They’re big and fat, but they’re also hardy and powerful.  It’s comforting.”

“Comforting?”

“I was a fat kid.”

Now it was Yuuri’s turn to laugh.  “Oh my god, really?  You? A fat kid?”

With a shy smile, Otabek nodded.  He placed his hands on his feet then slowly rolled up until he was standing upright.  “I liked Domalak Baursak too much and my mother thought keeping me fat was the same as keeping me healthy.”

“All I can imagine is you toddling around with a big stomach, bumping into shit.”

“Well, it all changed when I tried ballet the first time.”

Yuri felt the somberness creep into his words.  “I can imagine.”

“I couldn’t touch my own toes until two or three years ago.  I didn’t get my splits until last year.  I forced myself to get both of them in one day.  I thought my hips were going to rip in half.”

“Show off.”

“Not trying to be.  Just explaining how much of a late bloomer I am.”

“You’re not a ‘late bloomer’,” Yuri scoffed.  “You’re a...a...hard worker.  Or something.”  Yuri looked away from the small upward twitch of Otabek’s lips.

“Thank you.”

“Whatever.  Show me how to do a double cabriole, would you?”

“Of course.”

 

~

 

“What do you mean you need a day off!” Yakov practically yelled.  Yuuri and Viktor, along with everyone else in the lobby, snapped their heads around to look at J.J. cringing in front of the director.  He said something quietly, and Yakov exploded again.  “Isabella too?!  The hell you two need a day off to go screw each other senseless!  Do you have any idea how close this performance is?!”

J.J. tried to place himself between the crowd of dancers relaxing in the lobby and Yakov.  Yuuri almost felt bad for the guy.  J.J. said something else, hurried, with pleading hand gestures, and suddenly Yakov’s face dropped.

“What the hell,” Viktor said softly.

“What happened?” Mila asked from behind them.

“Yakov just got stunned speechless,” responded Viktor.

“Holy shit.”  She said something in Russian to Viktor, and he nodded.  Neither took their eyes off Yakov and J.J.  as the two began slinking out of the room.

“Isabella hasn’t shown up for the last two days,” Mila said.

“J.J.’s been acting really strange,” Viktor supplied.  “Well, he’s been acting normal for anyone else, but strange for him.  He’s been quiet.”

“Relationship troubles?” Mila wondered.  The two had been dating for a couple of months, and they both seemed well suited for each other.  Both seemed to believe that J.J. was the greatest, most handsome danseur in the company.  And they seemed genuinely happy.  Yuuri didn’t know much about relationships, obviously, but they had seemed happy enough when he’d seen them together.

 

“Possibly,” Viktor mused.

“Oh wait, maybe Isabella has the flu!” Mila loudly whispered.  “She’s been spending a lot of time in the bathroom over the last few weeks.”

Viktor gave her a look, then muttered something in Russian.  Yuuri didn’t understand the words, but the tone was somewhere between angry and intensely worried.  He followed after Yakov and J.J., but when Yuuri tried to tag along, Viktor turned sharply and grit out, “Stay here.”

Yuuri’s shock held him back for a moment, and by the time he recomposed himself, Viktor had already disappeared down the dark hallway.

“That was weird,” Mila said.  “He must know something.  You okay, Yuuri?”

“Uh, yeah.  He’s just...never been so abrupt with me.”

“A-brupt?” Mila repeated.  “I don’t know that word.”

“Uh, short I guess.  He’s never been so straightforward.  Rude?”

“Rude.  Okay.  I’m sure there’s a reason for it.  He’s never rude unless there’s a reason.”

“Yeah, it’s just weird.”  Yuuri wrung his hands, worried that maybe he’d annoyed Viktor by constantly hanging around him.  Maybe he’d finally gotten sick of Yuuri following him around like a bad smell.

 

“Hey, calm down,” Mila took his hands.  “You get nervous, right?  Sara does too.   Sometimes she video calls me in the middle of rehearsal so she can copy my breathing patterns.  Can you count with me?”

Yuuri hadn’t realized how badly he was shaking.  “You don’t think he’s mad at me, do you?”  Shit, he hated how his voice cracked in the middle of the sentence.

“Why on earth would he be upset with you?”

“I’m stifling him?”

“Yuura, I don’t know what that word means either,” Mila sighed.

“Is he tired of me?”

“Where is this coming from, Yuuri?  Viktor adores you!  Don’t you remember two days ago when he walked into the door because he was staring at your ass?”

“What?!”  He laughed through his trembling breath. “He told me to point my feet harder right after that.  I thought he was distracted by that.”

“His eyes were nowhere near your feet, my friend,” she grinned.  “He never shuts up about you!  ‘Oh, you should see the progress Yuuri’s made with his tours!’” She dropped her voice to imitate Viktor’s.  “‘He almost did a triple the other day!  I wish he’d let me film him so I could show you!  His Escamillo solo is beyond words!’”  She draped a hand over her forehead for dramatic effect and sighed.

 

“Does he really-”

“Oh my god, does he never praise you to your face?”

“Well, he does, but it’s less…”

“Less Viktor?”

“I guess,” he laughed.  His breath was still labored, so Mila motioned for him to breathe with her, and he did.  A few exhalations later and he felt a little better.  “He’s almost too good a teacher, I guess.”  He pushed his glasses up his nose, pulling his hands out of Mila’s grip.  “He praises me just as often as he corrects me.”

“Well, believe me, Yakov literally leaves the room when Viktor says your name.  Doesn’t matter if they’re in the middle of a rehearsal.  He just fucking leaves.  It’s really funny.”

Yuuri let himself smile, even though there was still a small niggling feeling of fear in his throat.  “I guess I’ll have to apologize to Yakov.”

“Don’t even bother.  He might not seem it, but Yakov is glad Viktor has something to talk about that isn’t his dog.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to say something else, but Viktor was back, wearing a ridiculously painted on smile.  “Alright everyone, break time is over!  Let’s get rehearsing!”

There was a bit of groaning, but everyone in the lobby began filing into the studio.  They only had about a month and a half left before opening night, so they were starting full run throughs, and their first dress rehearsal was in just two weeks.

 

Viktor spared him a quick glance, then did a double take.  “Are you alright Yuuri?”

“You two should talk,” Mila said with a flick of her wrist.  “I’ll handle the first movement.”

And then Yuuri and VIktor were alone in the lobby.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Yuuri blurted out.  He brushed past Viktor, and for a second, he thought Viktor was going to try and stop him.  He reach out a hand and opened his mouth, but then he withdrew and said, “Alright.”

Rehearsal after that was stressful.  Yuuri was caught between being afraid of Viktor and embarrassed by the fact that he could feel Viktor’s sunken eyes following him around the studio.  Yuuri’s solo was pathetic.  He knew the moment he began it.  He had to turn all this tours and pirouettes into singles, and his beats were sloppy.  When he glanced at Viktor between movements, he could see Viktor’s jaw muscles clenched uncomfortably.  The pas de deux wasn’t much better unfortunately, through no fault of Mila’s.  When the runthrough was over, Viktor caught Yuuri before he could leave the studio for a break.

“We’re practicing tonight.”

Yuuri nodded once, but made up his mind to ignore the statement.  When he began packing his bag later that night, Viktor caught him again.

“Why do I feel like if you walk out that door for dinner, you won’t be coming back?”

Yuuri glanced up from his bag.  He could feel the guilt dripping off his stiff smile.  He glanced up at Viktor, who stood with his arms crossed.

“Well, I have some stuff that needs to get taken care of tonight,” he lied.

“Like what?”

“Uh, calling Phitchit?”

Viktor raised an eyebrow at that.  “Why are you avoiding me, Yuuri?”

“I’m not.”

“You are and you’re still a terrible liar.”  There was a little bit of teasing in his voice.  “What’s got you so anxious?”

Yuuri shifted from foot to foot, but couldn’t find the words to answer.  He wasn’t even sure if he knew why he was anxious anymore.

 

“Put your pointe shoes on.”  Viktor said.  He unfolded his arms and strode back towards the studio.  Yuuri didn’t really know what to do.  He wanted to bolt while Viktor wasn’t looking, but leaving Viktor alone like that would make him feel guilty.  He bit his lip, weighing his options, then sighed and grabbed his pointe shoes out of the bottom of his bag.  He took his time wrapping his ribbons just so and tying the knots at the inside of his ankles, but eventually he had to go into the studio.

Viktor was in the middle of a combination.  Yuuri regretted not making a run for it when he realized it was Escamillo’s finale combination.  God, Viktor was such a drama queen.  His face radiated exhausted sadness, and Yuuri couldn’t help but smile a little.  He coughed quietly, and Viktor stopped mid-pirouette to look him in the eyes.

“I was almost certain you’d make a run for it,” he said.

“I thought about it,” Yuuri admitted.

“Let’s run through her solo.”

So Yuuri took his position just off center stage.  Viktor walked over to the the CD player and began the music.  Yuuri managed to get through the whole thing, but Viktor stopped the music at Don José’s entrance.

 

“That was better than your solo today during rehearsal, but nowhere near your best.”

“I know.”

“Are you ready to tell me what’s wrong yet?”

“Can I...Can I dance the habanera first?”  Over the last two weeks or so, Viktor had been going over all the dances in Carmen with him.  It was easier than coming up with new combinations each time Yuuri wanted to practice, plus it was good practice for Escamillo.  He knew Mila’s part frontwards and backwards, so partnering her was much easier now than it had been in the beginning.  Plus, he could stop Viktor mid-dance and ask why he put his hands where he did, or if there was a better way to do finger turns.  He’d also noticed his jumps getting higher when he danced in soft shoes, if that was possible.  He’d managed to land an entrechat huit the other day, which Viktor had practically bragged about all day, much to Yuuri’s embarrassment.  The pointe work also made him more confident for whatever reason.  Not today, of course.  He’d been too nervous to be confident today, but usually.  It usually helped.

Viktor nodded with a small smile and skipped forward on the CD.  Yuuri was glad Viktor seemed to understand that dancing helped clear his head.  His nerves made him miss steps and simplify combinations, but the more he danced the further away his anxiety got.  He just needed to dance it out.

“Better,” Viktor said when Yuuri struck Carmen’s final pose of the habanera.  Yuuri was breathing heavily, too tired to worry about Viktor anymore.  “So tell me what upset you today.”

“You were short with me.”

“What?”

Yuuri panted out, “When you went after Yakov this afternoon, you snapped at me.  It took me off guard.”

Viktor stared at him, mouth just barely open.  “I did snap at you, didn’t I?”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Yuuri shrugged.  He was mostly over it now.  “You’ve always been all smiles, even when you’re being mean, so it surprised me is all.  I thought maybe you were getting sick of me.”

“Never,” Viktor almost cut him off.  Then he sighed heavily.  “I’m sorry Yuuri.  When Mila said Isabella had been throwing up a lot recently, I assumed the worst.  I didn’t want you to be worried bout it, but I guess I made you worry by trying to protect you.”

“Assume the worst of what?  Protect me from what?”

Viktor ran a hand through his bangs and glanced at the floor.  He muttered something in Russian before looking at Yuuri again.  “ Isabella is in the hospital.”

“What?!  Is she really that sick?”

“She’s not sick--” he grunted in frustration, “She _is_ sick, but not with the stomach flu or something easy like that.”

“Then what’s wrong?  Is she going to be okay?”  Isabella was Mila’s understudy, and granted she’d been skipping out on practices, Yuuri was worried she might not even get a chance to perform in her corps part if she was stuck in the hospital.

 

Viktor sighed again and shook his head.  “She’s been committed to the psych ward, Yuuri.  She’s bulimic.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened as the meaning of Viktor’s words dawned on him.  “Oh my god.”  He hadn’t thought hard enough to make the connections, but it all made sense.

“Yeah.”

They stood in silence for a few tense seconds.  Viktor glanced back up at Yuuri sheepishly, then said, “I’m sorry for snapping at you.  I love that you follow me around.  You remind me of Makkachin.  I was just trying to keep you out of yet another stressful situation.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Viktor chuckled in exasperation.  “I made you have a bad rehearsal day.”

“I remind you of your dog?”

Now Viktor laughed outright.  “Only in the best ways,” he grinned.  “Do you forgive me?”

“Nothing to forgive,” Yuuri said.  He prepped and took off in a pirouette, and Viktor clapped when he landed a clean double.  Yuuri did a single to the left, then some piques to fill the silence.

“J.J. thought she was pregnant,” Viktor said just loud enough for Yuuri to hear.  He stopped his turns to give Viktor his attention.  “Can you imagine?  He was probably so excited.  He didn’t even realize there was anything wrong until she collapsed a few days ago.”

“It’s not unusual,” Yuuri said to the floor.  “There were girls back in Detroit who didn’t eat.  Phichit says it’s the same in New York too.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Viktor grit out.  “You didn’t do anything like that when you had to lose weight earlier this season, did you?”  Yuuri was overwhelmed by the concern in Viktor’s voice.

“No, no,” he reassured, “I’ve always gained and lost weight easily.  It’s why I’ve got all those...uh, stretch marks on my stomach.”

“She won’t be back in time for the performance.  She’s staying for a month, and she won’t be back in shape in time for opening night.”  Yuuri didn’t know what to say, so he let Viktor keep going.  “Yakov and I are already working on how to rearrange the corps so the audience won’t notice a missing body.  And I’m worried about Mila.”

“Why?”

“She doesn’t have an understudy now, so if anything happens to her, we’re royally screwed.”

 

Yuuri laughed at the way Viktor’s accent made him trip over the last two words.  “Well, she seems pretty strong.  I think she’ll be fine.”

“Yu-uri!” Viktor whined, “You’re supposed to be the anxious one not me!  Did you send all your worried energy at me while you were dancing?”

“Now why would I do that?”

“Mean!”

“Will you run the pas with me?”

“I don’t know,” Viktor pursed his lips.  “Not after you avoided me all day.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes but smiled.  Viktor’s eyes glanced from Yuuri’s outstretched hand and the CD player, then back again.  He must have made a decision, because he slapped some buttons, then ran to take Yuuri’s hand as the music started.

“It’s be a shame if you didn’t get at least one good run through today, I guess,” Viktor teased.  His breath in Yuuri’s ear made the hairs on the back of his neck tingle.

“How kind of you.”

“Are you going to try and seduce me this time?”  Yuuri spun in Viktor’s hands and gave him a pointed glare.  It wasn’t quite the right choreography, but it wasn’t the first time they’d improvised.  Viktor seemed to choke on his words, and Yuuri smirked to himself.

“I don’t think I need to try anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [double cabriolle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJTSVXsZGFA)  
> [finger turns](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-v3hVFhdkM)  
> [entrechat huit (These jumps may not look very impressive, but they are extremely difficult since you must move through eight foot positions while in the air) ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D-pzthHtjjQ)  
> [pique turn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MO4_9E8NgR8)  
>  A note about ballet dancers and eating disorders: Often times in highly competitive or strict companies, weight can become an issue. Some ballerinas will starve themselves in order to get parts, since they are supposed to be "thin" and "feminine" and "graceful". Not all ballerinas have eating disorders, and not all women are ballerinas with eating disorders. That being said, there is an inordinate number of professional ballerinas who have eating disorders. It is a very sad and scary truth that is very well guarded in the ballet world. 
> 
> Comments/questions appreciated!! Thank you for reading!!


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey, Fatass.”

Yuuri sighed heavily.  He was in the middle of a facetime call with his sister, and Yuri had decided to  barge into the empty studio.

“Mari, wait a minute please,” he muttered quickly in Japanese.  He could see her trying to peek over his shoulder at the sudden noise.  In English he asked, “What is it, Yuri?  I’m busy.”

“Well isn’t that just fuckin’ convenient?”

“What do you want?”

“Always too busy for little old Yuri, huh?  Won’t even let me complain.”

“Yuri.”

“Wait, is this the other Yuri you mentioned?” Mari asked in Japanese.  Yuuri answered in turn.

“Unfortunately.”

“He’s a little spitfire isn’t he?”

“What are you two saying?  Speak English!”

“Mari’s English isn’t very good.”

“Hi, Yuri!” she chirped out of the phone.  “I hear about you from Yuuri!  Is he treating you good?”

“Fucking asshole’s been ignoring me for the last week, so no.”

“You’ll need to speak slower if you want her to understand you.”

“Yu-uri,” she whined.  Yuuri knew she was talking to him, but Yuri couldn’t tell and they both turned back to her face on the phone screen.  “Oh, confusing,” she muttered.  “Little Russian Yuri, you look like Takeo, so you now are Yurio, okay?”

“What?!  The fuck is Takeo?”

Yuuri had to stifle a laugh, and he couldn’t bring himself to explain Mari’s fascination with idol groups.  Mari ignored Yurio’s outburst and switched back into Japanese to speak to Yuuri.

 

“Mama’s worried about you.  You need to call her soon, okay?  I know you have time.”

“Yeah, yeah I know.”

“She was so excited when she found out you got in, but she was beside herself when she heard it from Yuuko and not you.”

“I know, I know.”

“Hey!” Yurio snapped.  “I’m still here!”

Yuuri knew his sister had good intentions, but the guilt trip was kind of unnecessary.  He just hadn’t felt like he’d achieved enough to warrant a phone call home. Sure, he’d sent Yuuko a quick email after his first week when he realized they weren’t going to kick him out, that although Viktor might be using him or playing with him, he had a place in the company.

“I’ll call her tomorrow.  She’s busy with guests right now, right?”

“Yeah, just about to head to bed too.  It’s a little past midnight here, you know?”

“Yeah.  Okay.  How’s Dad doing?”

“Well, he fell into the baths half a month ago during a party, so he’s not allowed to drink anymore.”

“At all?”

“Until Mama and I can trust him not to go wild.”

Yuuri laughed at that.  He was just glad his dad was a happy drunk, and only drank when his soccer teams did well or there was a celebration.

“What are you two talking about!” Yurio practically yelled.

 

“Yurio, hasn’t anyone told you it’s rude to interrupt?”  Yuuri chastised.  He had to reign in his smile when Yurio bristled even further.

“My name isn’t Yurio!  Are you trash talking me right now?”

“Oh geez, he’s really red.  Is he okay?” Mari noticed.

“A little bit of teenaged angst, I think,” Yuuri joked, watching the disbelief on Yurio’s face as they continued speaking their native language.

“Oh, let’s tease him a little more.  Yurio is so short and cute and foreign.  Yurio walked to the store the other day.”

“Yurio always does his best in ballet class.  He and Otabek are good friends.”

“What about Otabek?  Hey, stop moving!”

Yuuri began moving around the studio slowly, Yurio following behind him, demanding answers.

“Yurio is a good student, is he?”

“Oh, very good.  Too good almost.  Yurio’s a little bit like me though.  Yurio gets frustrated easily.”

Yuuri didn’t know if he was thankful for the Japanese penchant for using names for sake of politeness, especially when in English pronouns were so useful, but in this case he was relishing in it.

 

“What are you saying about me?!  Fucking assholes!”

“But Yuuri, really.  Are you okay?  You’re eating properly, right?”

Yuuri laughed nervously.  “I’m fine.  I really like it here and I’ve only had like, two breakdowns.”

“Oh, that’s impressive,” Mari said.  “Hold on a second.”  She put the phone down, the jarring movements displaying a dark blue sky and some yellow outdoor lights.  When she picked up again, there was a cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

“Your smoke before bed?” Yuuri chuckled.

“Can’t live without it.”

“You’re not gonna live past forty.”

“That’s the goal,” she joked back.

“Viktor used to smoke too, you know,” Yurio hissed, an obvious attempt to get the attention back on himself.

“Yeah, I know,” Yuuri diffused easily.  He hadn’t _really_ known that, but it made sense.  A lot of people in Russia smoked.  “I’m fine Mari.  I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”

 

“But are you eating healthy?”

“As healthy as I can in a place where they don’t even sell rice in bulk.”

“What?!  They don’t sell bulk rice?  How are you even alive.”

“I’ve been frequenting the sub shops.  And Viktor helps me shop sometimes.”

“Ohhh~!” she cooed.  Yuuri immediately regretted telling her that last part.  “You two going on romantic shopping dates?”

“Mari!”

“I have to admit, it’s an unusual date, but it seems boring enough for you.”  She smiled as she puffed out a cloud of smoke.

“They’re not dates!  Our apartments are close, so we end up going to the same supermarket.  And I need someone to translate!”

“Oh, your _apartments_ are close!  Have you _been_ to his apartment yet?”  The innuendo was obvious from her tone.  Yuuri’s could see his face reddening in the mirrored thumbnail on his screen.

“Mari!”

“Kidding!  But keep me updated, okay?  Your love-life is interesting now that you actually have one.  And, oh hey, does your company tour?  Like the Detroit one?”

“Oh, yeah.  Don’t think we have any scheduled stops for Japan though.  I’ll have to ask Yakov about the schedule again.”

“Man, that sucks.  I haven’t seen you in years.  Mom and Dad are always complaining about you never coming home too.”

“Well, maybe for spring season?” he laughed uncomfortably.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go home for a few weeks, it was just...it had been so long.  It would feel weird if he just showed up after five years away.

“Will you hang up already?  You’re doing this to fuck with me aren’t you?”

“I’ll let you go.  Your kitten needs attention.”

 

Yuuri snorted and said goodbye.  When he ended the call and lowered his phone, Yurio was glaring at him.

“The fuck did you say to your whore of a sister?”

“That’s not a very nice way to talk about her.”

“Yeah, well, you were making fun of me,” he spat, as if that excused his words.

“We weren’t, you know.  I was actually telling her how diligent you are, but if you want to insult her…” he shrugged and made towards the studio door.

“Wait, wait!  I’m not done with you!”

“What if I’m done with you?”  Yuuri did his best to keep his features cool and uncaring.  To be honest, Yuuri didn’t need to defend his sister.  Mari had been called worse things, and she’d silenced them with a right hook or  kick to the knees.  She’d probably laugh in Yurio’s face if he’d said that in her presence.  But if he could pull an apology out of Yurio, oh _that_ would be something to call home about.

 

“You can’t be!  I won’t let you!”

Yuuri tossed an unimpressed look over his shoulder, hand hovering over the doorknob.

“I’ll tell Viktor!”

“That I dance en pointe?”

“Yeah.  I’ll tell him.”

“I mean, he already knows, but it you want to do that, I’ll just tell him about you.  He doesn’t know about that yet.”

Yurio looked at him slack jawed and wide-eyed.  “You fucking-, you told him?”

“He’s been helping me with it too.  That’s why I’ve been able to do fouetté’s.”

“You’ve been ignoring _me_ to practice with _him_?”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.  I’m just busy.  I don’t have time to mess around after rehearsal much anymore.  I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

“I don’t even know why I’m surprised.  It was only a matter of time,” Yurio grumbled.  “Fine whatever, I’ll keep going on my own.”

“Yurio--”

“That’s not my name!”

“You’re not practicing on your own.  You’ll hurt yourself.  You can practice with me and Viktor.”

 

“Oh, God, no.”  Yurio’s disgust was evident even without the grimace and tongue hanging out of his mouth.

“Why not?”

“I already have to deal with you two flirting and being gross during rehearsals, no way do I want tickets to a private viewing of whatever you two get up to during “practice” sessions.”

“We-we just practice!  I don’t know what you’re thinking but it’s not true!”  He didn’t know how Yurio could just imply such raunchy things.  His face heated up as the way he and Viktor danced together flashed through his mind.

“Sure, Sure.  I’m still not going to come practice with you.”

“Okay.  I’ll...make time to practice with you.”

Yurio’s surprise actually broke through his smug expression.  “Oh.  Uh, okay.  I practice with Otabek on Monday’s, Wednesday’s, and Friday’s after rehearsal.”

“I’ll tell Viktor I can’t practice anymore on Tuesday’s then.”

“Just one day?”

Yuuri shrugged, regretting that he couldn’t give more.  “Do you want to run both of us ragged? Plus with opening night so close…”

“Fine, whatever.  I’ll take what I can get.”

“Alright.  Tomorrow then.  Studio one?”

“Lower floor.”

“Let’s get back to rehearsal then.”

“Yeah.  Viktor’s probably moping since you’re not there.”

“No,” Yuuri protested.  “He’s probably chastising Chris for changing choreography again, and Telling Mila to go full out for once.”

“She’s so lazy.”

“Her arms are good, but it’s so hard to tell what her feet are doing when she just marks everything,” Yuuri agreed.  Viktor complained about it all the time.  Yuuri grinned as they both exited the room.

 

~

 

“I’m going to practice with Yuuri tomorrow,” Yuri said.  Otabek looked up from his place on the floor, unimpressed.

“Okay.”

“You’re not upset about it, are you?”

“Why would I be upset?”

“I don’t know,” he struck the floor with the ball of his foot.  “Maybe he’d teach me opposite to what you’ve taught me.”

“I doubt that.  He’s managed to assimilate to our style of dance.  He knows what the company expects.”  That didn’t seem to calm Yuri at all.  Otabek glanced back down at his legs, then reached forward to stretch out his hamstrings and the backs of his knees.  If he gave Yuri time, he’d eventually come right out and say what was bothering him.  Otabek knew he would.  Even if it took longer than he would have liked.

“You’re not afraid I’ll ‘run myself ragged’?”

“Not particularly.  You know your limits.”

“Well, obviously.  But you’re really okay?”

“I still don’t see why I wouldn’t be.”

“What if...nevermind.”

 

Otabek sighed.  Yuri had been dancing around this for weeks, and it was frustrating not knowing what was bothering Yuri.  He was tempted to press further, but he knew that would probably make Yuri defensive.  So he just tried pressing his nose closer to his knees.  He was still pathetically inflexible compared to most of the other dancers in the company.  He hated stretching.

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s been bothering you?”

Well.  That hadn’t been intentional.  Otabek refused to look up at Yuri’s face, and tried pressing even further into his legs.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

Defensive.  Just like he’d thought.  “You just told me to nevermind.  What am I not minding?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It obviously does, but I won’t ask anymore questions.  I just want to know if you’ll _ever_ tell me.”  Otabek hadn’t even realized he’d wanted that until the words were out of his mouth.  He wanted Yuri to trust him as much as he trusted Yuri.  He heard Yuri swallow thickly and click his teeth together.

“It’s nothing.  You’ll be upset.”

“I won’t be upset.”

“You will.  And it’s not that big a deal.”

“Obviously it is.  You don’t have to tell me now.  But will you ever?”

“Yuuri and I are working en pointe.”

Oh.  Well.  That was not what he’d been expecting.  He didn’t know what he’d been expecting but it certainly wasn’t _that_.  He finally raised his head to look at Yuri.  He had the barre in a white-knuckled grip, and he was staring at the floor.

 

“Are you being safe about it?”

“I-I guess?”

“You’re warming up at the barre and not doing anything stupid?”

“Yeah, no.”

“Then I guess it’s fine,” Otabek sighed.  “I wish you’d said something sooner, but it’s fine.”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

“You seem to assume a lot of things about me.”

Yuri opened his mouth but didn’t say anything.  He looked embarrassed, but Otabek couldn’t decide on a reason why.  Finally, after Otabek had changed his position into a jazz split, Yuri finally managed, “I can never tell what you’re thinking, so I always assume the worst.”

“And why’s that?”

“So I won’t be surprised when you finally tell me to fuck off.”

Otabek snorted.  Yuri’s head whipped to him.  “I’m not going to tell you to fuck off.  You’re too good of company for that.”

Yuri began tracing circles around the floor, foot too turned in for a proper rond de jambe.  It was cute.  So unlike Yuri’s usual severe, precise movements.  Just for a moment, Otabek saw why other dancers referred to Yuri as the Sugar Plum Fairy.

 

“Viktor’s been hogging Yuuri’s time, so I’m out of practice and I’m probably gonna have to start over.  Yuuri can do fouetté’s en pointe now.  It’s been three and a half months and he can already do fouetté’s.  Fuckin’ asshole.”

“That’s impressive.”  Once again, the thought of telling Yakov about Yuuri’s little practice sessions reared its head.  Yakov would probably be livid for about four minutes, then once Viktor got to him, he’d probably calm down.  Otabek could practically picture Viktor gushing about how far Yuuri’d come, how beautiful his technique was, blah, blah, blah…  “Just please be careful.”

“Well, duh.”

“You’re still growing, Yura.  You can seriously injure yourself.  Deforme your feet.”

“Yeah, I know that.  I got the shoes fit right, and they’re as comfortable as they can be.”

“Okay.”  Sure, he could tell Yakov.  It probably wouldn’t be an issue and both Yuuri and Yuri would be able to continue their practices.  Lilia might even insist on attending and instructing.  But there were too many people involved, and if there was even the chance that Yuri could get in trouble, Otabek knew he wouldn’t do it.  They were quiet for a few minutes, each working on their own stretches.  Suddenly Yuri was on the floor in front of Otabek.

 

“You’re Kazakh, right?”

“Yeah.  My accent that bad?”

“No, I just, uh.  Yuuri was making fun of me in Japanese today.  I need to know you won’t do that to me, so you’re going to teach me Kazakh.”

Yuri was too much.  Otabek actually gave a genuine laugh, and Yuri clenched his hands.

“Alright.  It’s pretty different from Russian and Ukrainian.”

“I don’t care.”

“And I also speak a little German, so I could still tease you with that.”

“Then you’ll just have to teach it to me.”

“Alright.  If you insist.  Although I can’t think of a reason to tease you.  If anything, shouldn’t you have Yuuri teaching you Japanese?  He’s the one making fun of you.”

“I don’t want to learn Japanese.  They have like seven alphabets.”

“I think it’s two or three.”

“Whatever.”

“And Kazakh technically has two.”

“Well, I want to learn Kazakh.  Plus one is just cyrillic, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.  I’m actually not that familiar with the Arabic script.”

“Then why even tell me about it?”

Otabek didn’t miss the way Yuri glanced away, red in the face, when he smiled.  “Well, it’s a good thing to know don’t you think?”

“I guess.  Not gonna help me though.”

“Come one,” Otabek said as he stood.  “Let’s work on your tours.  They were sloppy today in class.”

Yuri scoffed.  “They were not.  I just wasn’t trying.”

“Then let’s get you trying.”

“Whatever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> assimilating dance styles- certain companies have certain hallmarks and styles that make them different from others, each with varying strictness and focuses. The most famous is the Balanchine technique, but there is also Vaganova, Bournonville, Joffrey, etc. Essentially, the way a director teaches ballet ends up shaping the technique of the company.  
> [](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoNaYf6hkAs)Rond de jambe  
> [fouette](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fo250jmBl6I) (We reference the turns, at the beginning of the video)
> 
> Also, just to clarify, Yuri and Otabek speak to each other in Russian, not English, which is how Yuuri talks to pretty much everyone in.


	8. Chapter 8

“She can’t dance.”

_Oh no.  No no no no no._

“The hell were you thinking Mila?!”

 _No no no_.

“We were just messing around!  Ow!  Will you stop that?”

“She can’t dance, Yakov.”

_No no.  Absolutely not._

“It’s minor,” Mila tried.  “I can probably still dance on it.”

“Are you crazy?” Yakov scoffed.

“It’s not that bad!” she insisted.  She stood, put weight on both feet, and grimaced just a little.  Yakov grabbed her shoulders and forced her back onto the ground.  They were currently in a little hallway near one of the dressing rooms, crowded around Mila, who was sitting on a yoga mat covered in a dark towel.  The hallway had very little lighting and no windows, so they moved around each other in the shadows.  Yuuri was shocked and unmoving just a little bit behind Yakov and Viktor.  Viktor tossed a worried look to him every once and awhile, and Yuuri knew he was thinking.  More importantly, Yuuri knew _what_ Viktor was thinking and that was too much.

 

“Ugh, I’m sorry Yakov.  I didn’t think-”

“Obviously!  Do you have any idea how close opening night is?!”

“Yes!” she yelled back.  The frustration was beginning to set in, and her voice trembled.  She fell back onto the mat and pulled an arm over her eyes.  Yakov ran a hand down his face and muttered angrily in Russian.  Viktor chided him and glanced at Yuuri again.  Yuuri shook his head, but Viktor ignored him.

“We have half a week!” Yakov exclaimed.  “Your understudy is in a facility, and you’ve sprained your ankle!  What the hell are we going to do!  No one can learn forty-five minutes of choreography in three days!”

“I’m sorry!”  Mila was crying now, and Yuuri pitied her greatly.  Almost as much as he pitied himself in the plan Viktor was formulating in his head.  It was all too easy, Yuuri reasoned.  It was never the difficult, risky steps that injured dancers.  It was never anything major.  Yuuri remembered in Detroit a girl had slipped her Achilles’ tendon just walking down the stairs.  She’s been out for the rest of the season.

“Cartwheels!” Yakov threw his hand in the air.  “Fucking cartwheels!  Messing around with the other girls during breaks!  Absolutely idiotic!”

“Yakov, let her be,” Viktor hissed.  “Come.”  He took Yakov by the shoulder and navigated around Yuuri, who was still frozen to the floor where he stood.  They exited the hallway speaking hurried Russian, Viktor still trying to calm Yakov down.  Mila was still in tears, but she sat up long enough to readjust the ice pack on her ankle.

 

“This is so stupid.  I’m so stupid!”  She fell back and let out a shaky laugh.

“Y-You’re not.”  Yuuri knew those thoughts.  He didn’t really know how to stop them, but he didn’t want anyone else, especially Mila, to have them.  He could at least try to stop them, right?

“I am!  This was stupid!  I didn’t have to mess around with the juniors, I didn’t have to!”

“You couldn’t have known?” Yuuri tried.  “How many times have you done cartwheels before?”

“I don’t know!”

“Probably like, a hundred times?”

“I don’t know, maybe!”

“Well,” he pushed his glasses up his nose and scratched his cheek nervously, “You couldn’t have known that this time you’d hurt yourself.  You were just trying to have fun.”

“Yeah, and now the whole company has to pay for it!”

Yuuri didn’t know what to say to that.  He knew that Viktor was probably trying to convince Yakov not to cancel the production outright.

“I can still dance on it,” she whispered.  “I can still do it.  We might have to fill me with pain killers and change some choreo, but I can still do it.”

“Absolutely not,” Yuuri stonewalled.  He had dealt with stubborn ballerinas before.  They always tried to pull this kind of thing.  “If you dance on that, even for just the length of our tour, you’re just going to make it worse.  You could be out all of next season.”

 

“I’ve danced on worse,” she grit out.  “My first year, I got a demi-soloist position and some of the seniors got jealous.  Put broken glass in my pointe shoes.”

“Mila--”

“Feet were all sliced up for months afterwards. Didn’t stop me then.  This won’t stop me now.”

“Mila!”

“What!”

“You can’t dance on that!  I’ve done it before.  I’ve danced on a sprained ankle, and guess what?” he paused for a moment.  “Surgery.  I had to get surgery.  I was out for a season.  One of the reasons I left Detroit.”

“But I can-”

“You can’t.  This isn’t something you can push through.  I’m sorry.”

She groaned through her tears and ran a hand through her hair.  “I hate this.  I’m so stupid.”

“Yuuri.”  Yuuri turned to see Viktor approaching him.  His eyes were narrowed, but they retained some of their brightness despite the lack of light in the hallway.  “Yakov wants you in studio three.  Put your shoes on.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Put your shoes on and go see Yakov in studio three.”

“Viktor you can’t be serious.”  Yuuri knew he was.

“Very serious.  Don’t keep him waiting.  You know he hates that.”  Viktor grinned with a wicked twist and patted Yuuri’s hip until he was moving out of the hallway towards the company room.  Suddenly Yuuri’s hands were very cold, and his lips went very dry.  But he was already walking, head down.  He watched his feet, covered in his black canvas shoes.  Viktor wanted him to put on his pointe shoes.  Viktor wanted Yuuri to perform for Yakov in his pointe shoes.  VIktor wanted Yuuri to let everyone know that he was…

 

And yet, Yuuri found himself sitting down in the company room, pulling his bag off the shelf, and digging around for his shoes.  Yuuri found himself wanting to do this.  He was scared, sure.  He was terrified.  That was kind of a constant, he chuckled humorlessly to himself.  But as scared as he was, he was also somewhat numb.  This is what he’d always wanted, wasn’t it?  He’d always wanted to perform for people en pointe.  He’d wanted to show the world what he was capable of.  He wanted…

And his shoes were tied.  His ribbons were tucked.  He stood up, just as a few girls were entering the room.  They were twittering in hushed voices, probably talking about Mila’s tumble and what Yakov was going to do about the show and who’d be getting the lead now that Mila was out of commission.  When he brushed passed them, they quieted, eyes on his feet as he moved.  His stomach rolled and his breath stuttered, but he refused to let his steps falter.  He made his way to the studio, and sure enough Yakov was sitting on an old chair, arms folded and scowl in place.  Yuuri’s confidence wavered for a moment.  Yakov looked pissed, and granted that wasn’t abnormal, he’d never been upset with Yuuri.

“He’s upset with the situation, not you,” Yuuri whispered to himself.  “He’s not upset with you.”  He stepped sheepishly into the studio, looking anywhere but Yakov’s face.

“So this is what you and Viktor have been getting up to at night?”

“Y-yes.”

“Speak up, boy.”  Yakov took out a handkerchief and brought it to his hooked nose rather gruffly.  "Here I thought you two were screwing each other senseless in the studios.”

Yuuri’s eyes almost popped out of his head.  He felt all the air rush out of his lungs, and if he could have laughed uncomfortably, he might have.

“No, sir.  Just this,” he finally said.

“I have to say it’s an unusual choice.”  He sighed and stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket.  “You’re a talented danseur Yuuri.  Let’s see what you can do as a ballerina.”  

So Yuuri danced.  Yakov didn’t specify what he wanted to see, he just started counting in Russian, so Yuuri danced Carmen’s solo variation.  He toned it down and tried to make it clean, forgoing some of the sassier flicks of his wrist and keeping his face blank.  He nailed all the turns, but his jumps were sloppy.  He could feel his shoes getting heavier with each petit jeté.  He managed to get through it all though.  Half a minute later, he was panting in front of Yakov, who was only glaring at him passively.

 

“You get nervous easily, don’t you boy?”

“What was your first hint?”  Normally he wouldn’t be so short with a director, but Yuuri was stressed, and Yakov was testing him.  He couldn’t help it.

“If I’m honest, your audition four months ago.”  When Yuuri only panted in response, he continued.  “Find Viktor.  Take him to Lilia and have him explain the situation.  You two are in her hands now.”

“Director Feltsman--”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me by my first name?  Making me feel old.”

“Yakov, Sir,” Yuuri said as he finally straightened up.  “You’re not seriously going to have me perform on stage like this, are you?”

Yakov took out his handkerchief again, and turned to the side to blow his nose.  “Don’t have much choice.  Can’t put on a show without a lead.  Can’t collect donations without a show.  Can’t run a company without donations.”

Yuuri bit his lip.  He wanted this.  It was terrifying, but he wanted it.  “Alright.  Thank you, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Go on.”  He bade farewell bye waving his handkerchief at him and muttered something in Russian.

 

Yuuri eventually found Viktor helping Mila into his car out in the drab parking lot.  Russian winters were a lot like winters in Detroit, Yuuri had noticed over the last month.  They were gray and depressing, save the few days when they were bright and clear and dry.  The old asphalt ground almost matched the sky, which in turn almost matched the silver paint on Viktor’s old car.

“Taking her to see Emil,” he explained when he noticed Yuuri shifting awkwardly behind them.  Mila was half in the back seat, still in tears.  She gave Yuuri a sniff of acknowledgement, but didn’t speak.

“Emil?”

“Oh that’s right, you’ve never been.”  Viktor unwrapped Mila’s arm from around his shoulders and finally got her seated properly.  He closed the door and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket.  “Physical therapist.  He’s about two and half blocks away, but there’s no way she can walk that far like this.”

“Oh.”

“So.”

“I’m upset with you.”

“I figured you would be.”

“But I’m also excited.  I think.  I’m nervous but it’s good.  Is that what excitement feels like?”

Viktor’s previously neutral face split into a lopsided grin.  “You’re excited.”

“Yes.  But I’m still mad at you.  You keep doing these things.  You keep just going off on your own and deciding things without even discussing with me.”

“In my defense, there wasn’t exactly time to discuss it this time.”

“...Fair.”

The car door opened and Mila stuck her head out from inside the vehicle.  “Are we gonna go or do I have to listen to you two have a lovers’ spat?”  When Viktor giggled in response she slammed the door.

“Come with us.  You should meet Emil.  Especially if you’re going to be taking over Mila’s place as the lead.”

“We need to go see Lilia.  Director’s orders.”

“We’ll see her when we get back.  We drop off Mila, meet Emil, go see Lilia.  Thirty minutes tops.”

Yuuri popped some of his knuckles as he thought about it.  It wasn’t like he could just tell Lilia this terrible idea on his own.  That was Viktor’s job.  And It wasn’t like Viktor could just tell Mila to wait.  She was already in the car.  “Fine.  No detours.”  Viktor pouted for a split second and opened his mouth to say something.  “ _No detours_ ,” Yuuri stressed.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want to run through a drive through for hot cocoa and pastries?”

“ _One detour_.”

Viktor was practically jumping with how happy Yuuri’s little indulgence made him.  He opened the passenger side door for Yuuri to slide in, then ran over to his own side of the car.  When he started the ignition, Mila groaned.

“I feel like Mom and Dad are dragging me out on a date.  Fifth fucking wheel.”

“A third wheel?” Yuuri asked slyly.  Viktor laughed but Mila raised an eyebrow at him.  She’d wiped away most of the tears off her face, but the skin around her eyes was still red and puffy.  Yuuri was working on untying his pointe shoes and slipping his blue mukluks on as Viktor spun the steering wheel.

“Same idea, different translation,” he elaborated for Yuuri.  He pulled out of the tiny parking lot, managing to hit every pothole on the way.  Yuuri found himself gripping the handle attached to the car ceiling for dear life the entire five minutes it took to get down to the medical center.  He made a note to never drive with Viktor for any reason ever again.  The man took turns like the steering wheel was for roulette instead of driving.

 

They entered the perfectly square building, and Yuuri was grateful for the blast of warm air that greeted them, considering Viktor’s car seemed to lack a working heater. When they finally found the right door to the right office, Yuuri with Mila draped over his shoulders and Viktor scrutinizing every door number, the lady at the reception window ushered them into an observation room almost immediately.  Yuuri looked around and found it to be very similar to the doctor’s offices he’d visited as a child, only less colorful.

“You’re lucky my last two appointments were so quick!” a young blond man with a goatee said as he entered the room not even five minutes later.  “This is an anomaly!  Must be b’cause you’re here, huh?” he said to Viktor.

“Emil!  Just dropping off Mila like I told the receptionist over the phone.  Figured we’d introduce you to Yuuri too."  Viktor tunred back to Yuuri and made the introduction.  "Emil Nekola, trusted physical therapist and masseuse for the company.”

“Nice to meet you!  Although I hope you never have to visit me again,” he joked with a wink.  Yuuri took his outstretched hand, unsurprised when Emil gave a slightly too-hearty handshake.  Emil glanced down to Yuuri’s feet as soon as they let go of each other’s hand.

“You’ll have to take those off and show me what you’re working with,” he knelt down.

“Emil, we’re here for Mila,” Viktor reminded him.

“Just a peak?” he begged, picking at the fuzzy bits on Yuuri’s mukluks.  Yuuri would have stepped away if he hadn’t already been so close to a wall. Viktor shot him a look and Emil sighed.  “Fine, fine.  This won’t take long anyway.”  Emil stood, went over to the paper-covered observation lounge, and removed the pale blue ice-pack Viktor and Mila had wrapped her ankle in before they had left the studio.  Emil then began pressing and pinching all over Mila’s ankle.  Every once in awhile she’d hiss or gasp.  He asked her some questions, what was the pain like, what had she been doing, how long ago had this happened, that sort of thing.  After a few minutes of moving his hands up and down her shin, then gently rotating her ankle, he let out a heavy breath.

 

“Well, looks like a grade two sprain, which means at least four to five weeks of recovery time.  No dancing, no running, and rehab once you can walk again.”  He glanced over at Viktor.  “I trust you still have the crutches and boot from when Chris had those collagen injections?”

“Unfortunately.  Lilia’s always complaining about keeping them in the storage room.”

“Well, now she can be glad she won’t have to spend more company money on new ones, won’t she?”  He turned his gaze to Yuuri.  “Now--”

“We should really be getting back,” Yuuri interrupted.  He gave Viktor a panicked glance, but Viktor’s conflicting emotions were readable in the downward set of his lips.

“Not before I see these feet!  You haven’t been here before, God only knows what kind of damage you got going on down there!”

“Yuuri--”

“Viktor.”

“Oh, just show the man your feet, Yuuri!”  Mila was obviously frustrated.

“He just wants to look,” Viktor offered weakly.

“Was this whole trip a trick?”

“You got us, Yuuri,” Mila deadpanned.  “I gave up my lead role just so that Viktor and Emil could live out their weird foot fetish fantasy.”

“It’s for your health and also science!” Emil grinned.

 

Yuuri grit his teeth and stared at the floor.  “Fine.”  Viktor relaxed, but Emil’s grin only grew wider.  Yuuri stripped off his knitted boots and pulled his tights up over his feet.  They were just as bruised and blistered as usual.  If he was honest, having Emil look at his bunions was really embarrassing; his feet were ugly, even for a danseur.  So he focused on staring holes into Viktor’s forehead.  His stupid, shiny, big ass forehead.  Yuuri would be making many hair loss jabs after this ordeal.

“Oh,” was all Emil said at first.  “Lift this one up?”  Yuuri leaned against the wall behind him and lifted his right foot for Emil to inspect.  “Huh.  What’s with all the blisters, buddy?  You wearing heels during your pole classes?”

Yuuri ripped his foot out of Emil’s hands.  “What are you talking about.”  Emil raised an eyebrow, then pointed to his own bicep.  Yuuri huffed, then turned to Viktor.  “We need to get back to the studio.  Lilia’s waiting”

“What classes? Pole?” Viktor and Mila asked at the same time.  Yuuri did his best to subtly kill Emil with his glare.

“Uhh, nothing,” Emil hesitated.  “Just a joke.  Here,” he stood and handed Yuuri a business card from his back pocket.

“I don’t need this.”

“You might.  Let me give you my personal number.  Actually, you should talk to Chris.”  He took the card and produced a pen to write the digits down, then handed it back.  Both Mila and Viktor were eyeing them suspiciously, probably for different reasons.  “I’m going to get Mila set up for future appointments and therapy sessions.”

“It’s lunch time, so you’re taking me out and gossiping with me over food,” Mila pouted.

“Emil used to work with the company Sara and Mickey dance in,” Viktor explained.

“Surprisingly, the pay is much better here,” Emil grinned, serious air from earlier gone.  “But you wouldn’t believe what Seung Gil did last week.  He’s driving Mickey up a wall.”

“What?” Yuuri was just glad that Mila seemed to be pulling herself out of her frustration so quickly.

“Gotta eat lunch with me if you wanna know!” he teased.

 

“You’ll drop her back off at the studio?” Viktor asked.

“No problem.  And you said the crutches are in the storage room?”

“Yeah, behind the fridge, I think.”

“Alright, I’ll get y’all set up with those too then,” he said to Mila.

“Well, we’ve got a date with a very strict prima, so we need to go.  Be nice to Emil, Mila.”  Viktor gave them a quick wave and started towards the door.

She stuck her tongue out at him, but he didn’t see it.  Yuuri rolled his eyes and followed after him, just eager to get out of the office.  He forgot that leaving the office meant getting back into Viktor’s car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [petit jete](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pdtrLn6ByE)
> 
> soo...have I mentioned that Elena and I take pole dancing classes too..or did I forget to mention that,,,, :) So IF there's any pole dancing related stuff (which I'm gonna spoil right now, of course there's gonna be pole dancing stuff), it will also be written like I've written the ballet. Mostly accurate, but not so jargon-y that laypeople can't understand???   
> If you're interested in our cosplays/lives outside of AO3, you can find Elena on instagram [here](https://www.instagram.com/elenamika/) and me [here](https://www.instagram.com/bastetcg/)  
> 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm changing the rating for this chapter just to be safe! There won't be any hardcore stuff yet, but things are going to get much more flirtatious and sexual from here on out! Anyway, thank you all for your encouragement and patience! Also, I have designs for Viktor and Yuuri's costumes, but I have not uploaded them to tumblr yet, so I'll probably link them in next week's chapter! >.
> 
> edit 3/17: Please ignore my very limited artistic skills, but I finally uploaded the costume pictures, which you can view  
> [here](http://bastetcg.tumblr.com/post/158525135199/sketches-of-yuuri-and-viktor-costumes-for-the)

If Yuuri had to choose a few words to describe Lilia, the words he’d choose would be “tight” and “arched.”  She was old, but her skin didn’t sag mainly because her bun was so tight it pulled her skin taught.  Her eyebrows were thin, penciled in things that never held any kind of expression other than displeasure or disdain.  Her lips were constantly puckered, and she wore heels for the express reason of looking down on everyone in the company.

 

All these things being said, Yuuri liked her.  Actually, everyone in the company liked her.  Some of the juniors even called her Mama, or Mama Lili to show their affection.  She had told Yuuri that they were similar, high stress people.  Yuuri liked her.  But in this moment, with Viktor hanging off his shoulders, blissfully telling Lilia about Mila’s injury and Yuuri’s new place as the female lead, Yuuri thought that maybe, just maybe, he could see her gaze lighting both of them on fire.  Her nostrils had flared once, and her eyes sparked when Viktor had waved away Mila’s sprained ankle.  Then her gaze had shifted to Yuuri, and he had to bite back a very unmanly squeek.

 

“You’re telling me that Yakov approved this?” she grit out.

“Yes!  Isn’t it exciting?  I didn’t think I’d be back on stage so soon!” Viktor grinned back at her.  Yuuri couldn’t tell if he was being so positive to try and diffuse the situation, the way he usually dealt with tension, or if he was genuinely excited.

“So Yuuri’s filling in for Mila and you’re filling in for Yuuri?”

“Yup!”  Yuuri supposed that made sense but wouldn’t it make more sense for Vikto-

“Why wouldn’t you just fill in for Mila?” Lilia managed to raise an eyebrow even higher.

“I haven’t danced en pointe since my junior days!” he flapped a hand at her.  Yuuri pulled out of his grip a little to look at him in confusion.  “Did I forget to mention that?” Viktor asked him in response.  “Yeah, I did a little pointe work when I was young to help with my jumps.  Just a few months though.  Not long.”

“Hmmm.” Lilia grunted.  “If this is what Yakov could come up with, I guess this is what I’ll work with.  Come.  Let’s get you re-fit.”

 

She took them back into the costume room and shut the door too quietly for Yuuri’s liking.  She began riffling through the various costumes on the racks running down the room’s length.  She pulled out a frighteningly small black number made up of lace and rhinestones.

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to fit into Mila’s costume, but try it on anyway.”

“ _What?_ ” Yuuri shouted.  He slapped a hand over his mouth and looked at the ground, startled by his own tone.

“How many centimeters is your waist?”

“Seventy-seven?” Yuuri answered, softer this time.  Viktor gave him a strange look from the couch, where’s he’d taken up residence once again.

“The boy gains weight easy, it’s natural for him to know his waist,” Lilia rolled her eyes.  “Mila’s waist was seventy, if I remember correctly.  It might fit.  Here.”  She handed him the leotard and began ushering him back into a more dense area of costumes.

“You don’t need to hide him back there, Lilia!” Viktor called from the front of the room.

“I’m sure you two have seen each other without clothes several times, but I figured I’d give him some decency.”

“Only when we’re changing between classes,” Yuuri hissed out indignantly.  “Honestly, why is everyone so sure we’re sleeping together!”

“I was referring to the changing,” Lilia deadpanned.  Yuuri’s face got even redder than it already was.  “And I can tell you haven’t slept with each other.  You two are just as virginal as the day you arrived here.”

“What?”

“Now strip.”

 

Yuuri didn’t have it in him to delay any longer, so he did as Lilia told him.  Lilia was observant, he knew that, but Viktor couldn’t possibly be a virgin like he was.  Maybe she was using it in a different way?  Or misusing it?  English wasn’t exactly her first language.  He took the hanger from her and struggled to get the costume off.  It was even more of a fight getting the stretchy thing up over his thighs.  By the time he’d managed to snake his arms through the arm holes, he was actually sweating a bit.  Lilia zipped up the back and spun him to see what it looked like.

 

“It’s not perfect,” she sighed, “but it’s acceptable, given circumstances.”

“I want to see!” Yuuri heard Viktor rise from the couch and push his way through the crinkly plastic-covered costumes.  “Oh,” he said when he finally saw Yuuri.  He narrowed his eyes and gave Yuuri a very obvious up and down; all Yuuri could do was crack his knuckles and glance at the floor.  “Yuuri, you look so pretty!” Viktor finally exclaimed.  He took Yuuri’s hands and pulled them away from his torso.  The costume was black with several see-through cutouts along the chest, as well as a tight lace skirt that showed off more than it covered.  There were sequins and large gems along one shoulder and the opposite hip.

 

“Th-thanks, I think.”

“You said that’s what you wanted, didn’t you?  To be pretty?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, goal achieved!  Add a pair of pointe shoes and you’ll be ready to seduce any audience we come across!”

“I’m going to suggest we push his hair back like so,” Lilia ran a hand through his bangs and held them out of his face.

“Lilia, you’re a genius, but you’re going to give me a heart attack!”

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asked.  Viktor didn’t bother answering, but he pushed Yuuri’s glasses up his nose, which made Yuuri pull back a little.

“You don’t wear glasses on stage do you?  You have contacts, right?”

“I usually just go in blind,” he responded.  Viktor pursed his lips in thought.

“Can you even spot if you’re blind?”

“I do just about the same as usual,” he shrugged.  Lilia let his bangs fall back into his face.

“I knew a few girls like that when I was a prima,” she stated.  “I even toured with one that was legally blind once.  Could do forty-eight fouettés with no problem.  Had to have someone led her onto and off of each stage though.”

“Wow,” Viktor replied.  “You can’t do that many yet, can you?”

“Of course not!” he groused back.  “You know what I can do.”

“Just teasing!” Viktor grinned.  Yuuri rolled his eyes and turned to Lilia.

 

“Can I take this off?”

“Not yet.  I need to put pins in where I need to lengthen the shoulders.  Hopefully that will make it easier to get on and off for you.”

“Okay.”

“Viktor, go see if your old Prince outfit from Cinderella still fits you.”

Viktor pouted again, but let go of Yuuri’s hands after a light squeeze, then he darted off into the racks to find his old costume.  Lilia had stuck a few pins in the shoulders of the costume, as well as a few near Yuuri’s butt, supposedly so that Lilia could replace the current zipper with a longer one.

“Lilia!” Viktor whined.  Yuuri had to avert his gaze when Viktor pushed some costumes out of the way to rejoin them.  He had a white military-looking jacket on, but it didn’t quite fit, and it left a large strip of Viktor’s chest exposed.  “It doesn’t fit!  And I can’t find the sash.”

“Looks like you’re getting fat,” she replied through the pins in her mouth.

“I’m not getting fat, I got more muscular,” he pouted.

“It will work as it is.  We’ll have you wear a dress shirt under it, and you’ll be fine.  Now let me look at you two together.”  Viktor stepped next to Yuuri and posed in B plus.  “It’s a good thing you have wide hips, Yuuri.  With a little bit of makeup, I think you’ll be able to fool most of the audience.”

 

“This is going to be so much fun Yuuri!  You’ll get to show off how pretty your feet are to the whole world, and I get to toss you around on stage!” Viktor wrapped a hand around Yuuri’s waist as he said it.

“Not sure how that qualifies as fun.”

“Oh trust me, it’s plenty of fun,” he smirked.  He leaned his head so it rested on the side of Yuuri’s head and sighed.

“You two will need to stay after rehearsals with Chris to work out how all of this is going to work,” Lilia mused.  She pried Viktor off of Yuuri and helped unzip Yuuri.  Viktor must have scampered back off to but his own clothes back on, because when YUuri turned back around, he was gone.

 

Lilia shooed them out of the costume room to go talk to Yakov again.  They found him in the second story studio two, in the middle of running through the corps piece.  He looked extremely perturbed, and he scowled at both of them when he saw them through the window.  He jerked his head as a signal for them to enter.  They waited at the back of the studio until the corps struck their final pose and the music ended its last crescendo.  Yakov stood, glanced down at Yuuri’s feet, then addressed the corps.

“As many of you have already heard, Mila has hurt herself and will not be able to perform this season.  And since Isabella had some health issues that needed to be taken care of, we were left without a lead.”  There was some tittering amongst the girls.  It was then that Yuuri noticed Mila of to the side, sitting under the lower barre with her arms crossed and a boot on her left foot.  How long had Yuuri and Viktor been in the costume room with Lilia?  “We have found a new lead, and we will continue the show as planned.  Yuuri, go put your pointe shoes back on.  We’re doing a run through from the top.”

 

For a moment, the studio was dead silent.  Then one of the girls exclaimed, “Are you serious?!  Yuuri?”

“Can he even dance en pointe?”

“Who’ll take his place?”

“It’s only because he and Viktor are sleeping together.”

“Who’ll be Escamillo?”

“Men shouldn’t dance en pointe!”

“Enough!” Yakov punctuated the shout with a thump of his cane.  “Yuuri already knows all the choreography, and his pointe work is good enough not to embarrass the company.  This was my decision as director.  If you have a problem with it, you may bring it up to me after rehearsal.”  He glared around the room, looking for anyone to defy him.  “Alright.  Yuuri.”

“Yes, sir.”  Yuuri raced out of the room as quickly as he could and took his time tieing his shoes up his ankle.  When he hesitantly stepped back into the studio, VIktor took his hand immediately, and offered him a soft smile.

 

Yuuri didn’t really know what happened after that.  He remembered the starting notes of the introduction, and forcing step after step out of his body, but it was mostly a blur of trying to remember who was supposed to be where, when hands were on him versus off him, and wondering whether Yakov was watching him.  But then the ballet was over, and Yuuri was lying on the ground playing dead.  Viktor stood with a foot on either side of his hips, hand extended in an offer to pull Yuuri up.  It was only when Yuuri was back on his feet, very much in Viktor’s personal space that he noticed the looks on all the other dancer’s faces.  Leo and Georgi seemed impressed, Yuri looked absolutely furious, and most of the girls, Mila included, had a strange combination of awe and anger etched into their mouths.

“You were perfect,” Viktor whispered before Yuuri could even ask.

Yakov sighed heavily and stood.  “Alright.  Everyone but Yuuri, Chris, and Viktor are free to go.  Have a good night everyone.”

And everyone began trudging their way out of the studio.  Some of the girls were giving the three of them backwards glances, but Yuuri was more distracted by Yurio’s livid expression.  Otabek guided Yurio out of the studio, but Yuuri could still feel those piercing eyes on his back.

 

“Yuuri,” Viktor purred.  Yuuri simultaneously loved and hated the way Viktor said his name.  He suppressed a shudder as Viktor continued.  “Let’s get dinner after this, alright?”

“O-okay.”

“Stop flirting and get over here you two!” chastized Yakov.  “We have a lot to go over.”

“Yeah, and you’re making me feel lonely,” Chris fake pouted.

“Shut up, Chris,” Yakov huffed.  “Just get in your places, would you?  From the Allegro.”

They spent two extra hours in the studio, going over and refining the partnering sections until it was almost as smooth as when Mila was the one doing the fouettés and finger turns.  Chris was a good partner, but he struggled to connect with Yuuri during turns and when coming out of jumps.  Sometimes his hands were just too soft on Yuuri’s hips, and he felt like he was slipping out of Chris’s grip.  Not always the most comforting thing when Chris was lifting Yuuri up over his head in a press lift.  Most of the two hours focused on Chris and Yuuri, with Viktor, Yakov, and Lilia, who had joined them a little after everyone left, giving corrections and advice.  Yuuri was absolutely exhausted afterwards.  He’d spent about four hours total in pointe shoes, and his feet ached like there was a line of hot iron pressed down the center of his soles.

 

“You’ll be coming to the pointe class tomorrow, Yuuri.”  Yuuri looked up at Lilia.  “You need to be working on your ankles every day now.  You won’t need men’s class if you’re not playing a man.”

“Oh.  yeah.”

“Are we done yet?” Chris panted.  “I’m starving.”

“Yes, yes, go and eat,” Yakov mumbled.

“Oh, come and join us, Chris!” said Viktor.  Yuuri whipped his head around and drew his eyebrows together.  Hadn’t Viktor been...asking Yuuri out?  Was that not it?  Yuuri let out a deep breath and decided not to think about it too hard.  It’s not like Viktor would actually be romantically interested in Yuuri anyway.  He and Chris were the same.  Playfully flirtatious.

 

“I won’t be interrupting, would I?”

“Not at all!  The more the merrier!  Besides, we still need to see who can take more liquor, don’t we?”

“It’s obviously me!” laughed Chris.

“Oh God,” Yuuri complained.  He had heard stories about Chris and Viktor drinking together and getting completely fucked.

“I will have no sympathy for you if you show up tomorrow hungover.” said Lilia.

“You wish,” Viktor said to Chris, completely ignoring Lilia.

“Keep an eye on them, would you?” Yakov asked Yuuri.  Yuuri nodded.

“Where are we headed?” questioned Chris.  “I could go for some Italian.”

“Yuuri still hasn’t tried Sasha’s yet,” responded Viktor.

“Well then!  That settles it, doesn’t it?”  Chris ushered both of them out of the studio with a flourish of his hand.  Yakov and Lilia stayed behind, and Yuuri noticed that as soon as the door was closed, Lilia whirled on Yakov and began speaking in an extremely animated manner.  For someone who was usually so composed, it was frightening.  Yuuri didn’t see much more of the interaction, as their trio turned a corner, into the same hallway where Mila had been crying earlier that same day.

 

~

 

“Yuuuuu-ri!”

Viktor was drunk off his ass.

“Yuuuuuuuu-riiiii!”

“What is it, Viktor?”

“Hi~!”

“Hello, Viktor.”

“This is the building!”

“I know.  You told me that when we turned the corner.”

“‘M just es-ited.  Exited.  Excited.”

Yuuri readjusted Viktor’s arm around his shoulder.  Sasha’s had been an extremely Russian bar, and while the food was good, apparently the vodka was better, and Viktor had lost very, very badly to Chris.  Chris, for his part, had had Yuuri call his boyfriend to come pick him up.  But Viktor had insisted Yuuri accompany him back to his apartment, on threat of tears.  Yuuri hadn’t known what to do with a wet-eyed, desperate Viktor except give in, so there they were, in front on Viktor’s apartment complex, swaying on their feet as Yuuri attempted to keep Viktor upright.

 

Yuuri had known they lived close together, but Viktor was literally a block and a half away from Yuuri’s own complex.  The building was just as boring as every other facade on the block.  Some windows had sad-looking flower pots just outside their sills, and almost every curtain was drawn shut.

“I’m number, uh, two-five-eight?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah!  Two-five-eight!  Take me up Yuuri!”

Yuuri sighed, but obliged his company mate.  Yuuri passed through the lobby without taking time to look around.  When Viktor fumbled with his elevator keycard, Yuuri snatched it out of his hands and pressed it to the electronic lock for him.

“Second floor then?”

“You’re so smart!”  Viktor practically flung himself at Yuuri, and they stumbled into the elevator as it opened.  Yuuri was pretty sure that Viktor was coming on to him now, since he was shoving his face into Yuuri’s neck and trying to speak.  Yuuri was just glad that their ride was short.  The elevator dinged twice, and they stepped out into a drab hallway lined with brown doors.

 

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Viktor murmuered.

“What? Losing to Chris?”

“Getting you home,” Viktor ran his nose up behind Yuuri’s ear, and Yuuri almost shrieked.

“Viktor!”

“Hmm?”

“Which way?” There was a fork in the hall, and Viktor had to lift his head in order to see where they were.

“Left.”

Yuuri pulled out of Viktor’s arms and headed that way as quickly as he could without completely abandoning Viktor.  Even though their hands were interlocked Viktor seemed very confused about the sudden lack of contact.

Yuuri located apartment two fifty-eight easily after that, and used Viktor’s keys to open the door.

“Why do you have my keys?  I haven’t given you keys to my apartment yet,” Viktor slurred.

“I drove us home.”

“Oh.”

 

As soon as the door was open, a big brown ball of fluff threw itself at Yuuri, knocking him on into Viktor’s arms, and onto their asses.

“Makkachin!” Viktor was practically beside himself with joy.  “‘M sorry is’so late!  You gotta go potty don’t you?”

“Makkachin?  Hello,” Yuuri greeted.  The dog was very excited to be sniffing Yuuri’s face and neck and hands, and Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh when Makkachin began lickingeverything within reach.

“He likes you!  I knew I made a good choice!”

“He needs to go out, you said?”

“Yeah.”  Yuuri pushed Makkachin off of them, and helped Viktor get back on his feet.  Makkachin began running in happy circles, without taking his big brown eyes off Yuuri and Viktor.

“You get ready for bed.  I’ll take care of him.”

“Take care of me, Yuuri!” Viktor pouted.  Yuuri actually laughed, and Makkachin darted back into the apartment.  When Yuuri stepped into the entranceway, nothing seemed out of place.  The apartment was nice, but not extravagant.  There was a kitchen with an island and a several nice appliances, and the carpet seemed relatively new, but what really caught Yuuri’s attention was he sink.  Yuuri didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but he probably should have seen this coming.

 

“Viktor, do you ever wash your dishes?  Like, ever?”

“Some times?”

“Oh my god.”  Yuuri rubbed his free hand down his face and groaned.  That was unacceptable.  He’d walk Makkachin, then do the fucking dishes.  But first he needed to get Viktor to bed.  “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Hallway.  I’m sleepy.”

“Of course you’re sleepy.  You had like four drinks.”

“‘M not that drink.”

“You’re wasted.”

“Yeah…”

Yuuri helped Viktor into the bathroom, put toothpaste on his toothbrush, then closed the door to give him some privacy.  When he was done, he stumbled out of the bathroom and across the hall into the master bedroom.  As soon as Yuuri stepped in behind him, Viktor began stripping.

 

“Are you some kind of exhibitionist, then?”

Viktor stumbled to face him, gave a clumsy wink, then said, “Only for you, Yuuri!”

“Alright, Alright, let’s get you to bed, huh?”  Yuuri began guiding Viktor towards the bed, but Viktor seemed to have other plans.  He fell into the bed, and pulled Yuuri down with him.

“Stay with me?”

“V-Viktor! Let go!”

“Please, Yuuri?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Why does that matter?”

“Viktor let go.”

“No.”

“Viktor.”

“I really like it when you say my name, Yuuri.”

Yuuri was doing his best not to look into Viktor’s too-blue eyes, or at his too-pink lips, or really anywhere to be honest.  He was practically straddling a mostly-naked Viktor near the edge of the bed, and he could feel his legs slipping off the mattress.

 

“Let me go.”

“If I do will you come back?”

“I have to walk Makkachin.”

Viktor groaned at that.  “Come back please?”

“I'm not gonna steal your dog, Viktor.”

“No, come back to bed.”

“I-I, uh-”

“Please?”

For the second time that night, Viktor was playing dirty.  Yuuri could practically see the tears building up in Viktor’s glassy eyes.

“I’m slipping, Viktor.  Let go.”

He obliged, but his hands lingered near Yuuri’s hips. Yuuri stood as gracefully as he could, then made quick work of tucking Viktor in, doing his best to ignore the pitifully worried expression on Viktor’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [B Plus](http://dancer.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/Positions-of-feet_bplus.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
> As always, comments and questions are encouraged!!  
> You can find me on instagram href="https://www.instagram.com/bastetcg/">here  
> or on tumblr href="https://bastetcg.tumblr.com/">here  
> You can find Elena on instagram [here](https://www.instagram.com/elenamika/)  
> You can talk to either of us! We're both very friendly and we love talking about this AU!!


	10. Chapter 10

Yuuri felt bad.  Yuuri felt really, really bad.  He was not emotionally in a place to stay the night at a drunk, clingy, weepy Viktor’s apartment, but Viktor had been so upset.  He’d looked so lonely.  When he thought about it, Viktor spent an inordinate amount of time at the studio, and he never mentioned going out unless he was asking Yuuri or Chris to join him.  There hadn’t been any pictures of family or friends in Viktor’s apartment either.  Only a few framed photos of Makkachin, and one or two of the company.  In fact, the only other personalized aspect of Viktor’s home was the framed posters of the various shows he’d been a part of, signed by if not all, most of the cast members.

 

But Yuuri was too wrapped up in his own stress to even consider slipping into bed with his friend.  He’d probably spontaneously combust if he did.  So he walked Makkachin, washed the mountain of dishes in the sink, and wrote a note for Viktor to wake up to.  Then he left, hoping the building was secure enough that no one would try to break into the apartment if he left the door unlocked; walked the two blocks it took him to get home, and then didn’t sleep.

 

Viktor, for his part, as just as bright and sunshine-y as usual when he showed up to class the next morning.

“Good morning, Yuuri!  I got your note.  You didn’t have to do my dishes.”

Yuuri just grunted in response.  He continued tugging his tights on over his thighs, then let the waist band snap into place.  Viktor set his bag down on one of the chairs lining the back wall of the dressing room.

“Are you really awake?”

“I’m dying, Viktor.”

“If you were dying, I would know.”

“Do you even remember last night?”

“I remember pretty much everything up until getting home, why?  Did I do anything embarrassing?”

“Not for you,” Yuuri sighed.

“Oh?  What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about it.”  Yuuri was almost tempted to make up some embarrassing story when Viktor grinned ignorantly and didn’t press further.

“Yuuri!” Yakov called from outside the dressing room.  “Lilia needs to see you in the costume room.”

“Coming!” he yelled back.

“Give us a minute!” Viktor added.  Yuuri glared at him.  How did Viktor not realize what that sounded like?

“Not you, Viktor.  Just Yuuri.”

“Aww, why?”

“Just go teach class when you’re done, huh, Viktor?” Yakov growled.

“Fine, fine.  Have fun with Lilia!” he winked at Yuuri.  Yuuri tugged his shirt on quickly and practically tripped on his feet to get out of the dressing room.

 

When he got to the costume room, Lilia was sitting at the sewing machine, arms and legs crossed.  She looked extremely preoccupied, which was unnerving.  She practically jumped out of her seat when Yuuri stepped into the room.

“You needed to see me?” he asked.  “Is the costume already finished?”

“No, I’ve only just pulled the zipper out, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“…Okay?”

“Yuuri, there’s no delicate way for me to ask this, so I suppose I should just come out and ask.”

Well, that was just vague enough to send Yuuri’s mind reeling.  Was he that awful on pointe?  Was he too fat?  Had Viktor made a mistake in allowing him to join the company?  Was Lilia going to tell him it had all been a joke?

 

“Has Viktor been hurting you?”

 

Oh.  Well that was unexpected.

 

“What are you talking about?”

“Has Viktor been physically hurting you?  Assaulting you”

“N-No?”

She gave him a skeptical look.  “He’s never been as close to anyone as he has been to you.  I’d like to think that I know Viktor, but sometimes it’s the ones you least expect.”

“Lilia, what are you talking about?  The only time Viktor’s ever laid a hand on me is to correct my posture or hug me.”  Yuuri conveniently left out all the teasing and playful touches Viktor was prone to using during their after-rehearsal practices.  After all, those were just Viktor playing the part of Escamillo.

“If that’s true, then can you explain to me the reason your legs are covered in bruises?”

Yuuri could practically feel his blood rushing to his feet.  He needed an excuse, and fast.

 

“I run into the coffee tables in my apartment a lot.”  Jesus Christ, that was terrible.  Lilia leveled him a narrow-eyed glare.

“And the ones on your arms?”

Yuuri was almost tempted to blurt out, ‘I use steroids,’ but he knew that Lilia wouldn’t believe him.  “I tripped up the stairs.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “I see.”

Yuuri prayed to every god he could think of that she wouldn’t ask any more questions, because he didn’t think he’ be able to come up with any more acceptable excuses.  Granted the excuses he’d just used were so flimsy Lilia could probably blow them away with a sigh.

“I don’t believe you,” she finally said.

“It’s-It’s too embarrassing to tell you, but I promise,” he emphasized, “I _promise_ no one is hurting me.  Least of all Viktor.”

She ran her eyes over his body, then back to his face.  Her lips were always pursed, but there was something around her nose that showed she was thinking.  Yuuri was afraid he’d start shaking.  “Alright.  I’m trusting you Yuuri.  I don’t like it, but you don’t look like a liar.”

‘Oh, if only she knew,’ he thought to himself.  He lied every day, all the time.  His therapist had even told him that back in Detroit.  But that was irrelevant right now.  He needed to focus.

“If that’s the case, I want to show you something.”  She stepped over to a table that was mostly covered in sequins and cabochons.  There was a small old box of a TV there, no bigger than Vicchan had been.  She hit the power button and the screen flickered to a slightly lighter shade of gray.  Picking up a remote, she tilted her head to invite Yuuri over.

 

“This is from Viktor’s second season in the senior company.”

“Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

Lilia’s eyes went wide, “Yes.”

“He was Puck that year, wasn’t he?”  Yuuri wanted to bash his head into the table.  He’d managed to keep his fanboy tendencies under wraps, even in front of Viktor, but for whatever reason it was all bleeding out now.

“Yes.  He must have told you all about it,” she rolled her eyes, but there was a small tilt to her lips.

Yuuri bit his tongue to keep the words, ‘I used to watch that performance every week when I was fourteen,’ from escaping.  He’d stumbled upon the performance when he was looking for new variations to learn and show Minako.  Viktor’s performance had bewitched him.  He’d had to watch the whole production in five separate parts back then, scrubbing through each twenty-minute video for Viktor.  He’d been so excited when someone had cut all Viktor’s scenes into one video a few months later.  The quick flirtatious interactions between Oberon and Viktor’s Puck trapped in the tiny screen of a YouTube video had been the first in Yuuri’s playlist of “Viktor Videos.”

“Take a moment to look at his facial expressions and the energy in his steps.”  She fast-forwarded to Viktor’s entrance.  It was very nostalgic to see Viktor freshly eighteen with his long hair floating behind him.  Yuuri knew the steps by heart, every flick of the wrist, every bat of eyelashes.  It was less refined than what Viktor could do now.  Some of the steps bled into others sloppily, but his aura was too impressive for Yuuri to even care.  He stepped into the persona perfectly, and the sly smile on his face throughout the dance made Yuuri want to keep watching, even after Lilia hit pause.

 

“What do you think?”

“What do you mean?”  Yuuri pressed a thumb against his middle finger to pop his knuckle.

“How does it compare to his dancing now?”

“Well, he was ten years younger,” Yuuri shrugged, “So a lot has changed in terms of his technique.”

“What about his expressions?  His energy?”

“Well, they were just as good as usual?”  Yuuri didn’t know what she was trying to get at, but he felt like she was testing him.

“Alright.”  Lilia ejected the DVD from the player connected to the TV and replaced it with another disc.  “This is from last spring.”

Yuuri opened his mouth, but decided against speaking.  He was getting to see last season’s performance!  It was almost impossible to find ballets that recent online, and the most current performance from the Russian Ballet Company that Yuuri had seen had been Viktor two years ago in Rodeo.  Yuuri hated Rodeo.  Viktor had made it tolerable.

 

Yuuri immediately recognized some notes from the second movement of the second act of La Sylphide.  Viktor was playing the part of a bewitched but unfaithful man, chasing after an air spirit.  It should have been a perfect fit, considering how fickle Viktor was, but the performance was just…less.  There wasn’t nearly the amount of energy in Viktor’s steps, even as he leapt into the air in a tour jete.  He had good expression, but it was lacking.  Yuuri had never seen Viktor dance with so, so…little.  He didn’t know how else to describe it.  It was almost like he was just marking the steps, but he wasn’t.  The performance was beautiful, technically perfect, there was no doubt about that.  Viktor’s performance was polished and his steps were much cleaner than they had been as Puck, but Yuuri didn’t feel anything as he watched Viktor travel across the stage, desperately trying to catch Mila as she chaînéd away.

 

“And what so you think now?”

“What happened?”

“It’s hard to say.  Viktor is surprisingly private with his feelings.  I’d guess he got bored.”

“Bored?”

Lilia let out a long breath.  “He’s dedicated almost fifteen years of his life to this company.  He was so bored of being a principal dancer that he asked Yakov to choreograph instead this season.  Yakov fought him a little bit, but he knew how miserable Viktor was.  It’s lonely on top, I suppose.”

Yuuri laughed softly.  “It’s a good thing he likes choreographing so much.  Gave him his inspiration back.”

Lilia paused the video to consider Yuuri for a moment, eyes narrowed and jaw slightly agape.

“Are you serious?”

“Uh?”

“Yuuri, he hates choreographing.  He complains about it all the time to Yakov.  That’s one of the reasons I think he’s so excited to be back on stage.”

“Oh.”

Lilia looked almost upset for a moment before deflating.  She placed a hand on his upper arm and said, “Oh, Yuuri.”

 

She handed him the remote and stepped back into the costume-filled racks.  Yuuri pressed play and watched a little more of the performance, just so that he could watch Viktor dance some more.  It was disconcerting to see such a drastic but unidentifiable change in Viktor’s movements, but Yuuri couldn’t shake his fannish tendencies.

“Don’t stay too long.  Yakov will get grumpy,” Lilia called from the back of the room.

“Right!” Yuuri paused the video, turned the TV off, and made for the door.

“Uh, thank you, Lilia,” he projected as he was leaving.  “For being concerned about me, and for showing me the videos.”

“Show me your gratitude on the stage, boy.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

 

~

 

“Viktor, if you can’t focus for five seconds, I’m firing you and cancelling the production!”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, Yakov.”

“‘Don’t be dramatic,’ he tells me,” Yakov mumbles.  “As if you aren’t the biggest freaking drama queen on the face of the earth!”

Viktor scoffed, but Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh.  Viktor gave a wink before he prodded Yakov further.  “I am not a drama queen!”

“When I denied you a water break your first year in the seniors, you told me you’d die of tuberculosis unless you got water.”

“Yes, and Katerina Ivanovna would not have made as lovely a corpse as I.”

“You brought Makkachin to rehearsal one day because you had pink eye,” Chris supplied slyly.

“I could have gone blind!”

“He’s not a service dog, Viktor.”

“We should have let Makka lead him into traffic,” said Yakov.

“Yuuri, they’re being mean to me!”

 

“You cried for two hours last month because you realized you’re going gray,” Yuuri laughed back.

“It was very troubling!”

“Viktor, _all_ your hair is gray.”

“It’s been gray for years,” helped Chris.

“Does _no one_ in this company appreciate me?” he cried to the ceiling.

“Will you just shut up and focus on your choreography?  We have a stage rehearsal tonight, in case you’d all forgotten.”

Yuuri tensed up at that, previous mirth falling away instantly.  Chris seemed to notice and leaned over to whisper, “One time he wouldn’t talk to me for a week because a two girls at a bar gave me their numbers, but he didn’t get a single one.”  Yuuri had to choke out a laugh at that.

 

“Chris!” Viktor complained.  “Stop telling lies!”

“I’m not!”

“Shut up!”

“Sorry, Yakov,” Yuuri apologized.

“You’re not the one causing trouble.  Viktor!”

“Chris started it!”

Chris muttered something in French under his breath, to which Viktor hissed a reply back.  This usually happened when they were together, and Yuuri had given up trying to decipher what they were saying, but it still made him self-conscious.

 

“Both of you!  Focus!”

The Viktor gestured towards Yuuri and said something in Russian, to which Yakov got very red and began shouting back.  Viktor grinned and took Yuuri by the hand.

“I hate it when you do that, you know,” Yuuri said.

“What?”

“Talk about me when I can’t understand you.”

“I assure it’s only kind words,” Viktor replied.  He led Yuuri into their starting position and Yakov finally calmed down a little bit.  “Besides, I heard you and Kenjirou like to tease Yura by speaking in Japanese.” the name 'Kenjirou' sounded heavy on his tongue, and Yuuri couldn't help but smile for a moment.

“W-Well that’s…We never say anything mean.”

“And neither do I.”

Yuuri squinted up at Viktor, who only kept grinning to himself.  Yakov began counting off for them, and before Yuuri could formulate a response, they were dancing.  Yuuri tried to keep an eye on Viktor’s movements to compare them to what he’d seen in the videos, but it was difficult when he was spinning and jumping and canting his hips.

“Yuuri, you’re thinking too hard,” Vitkor whispered during one of their finger turns.  “Calm down.”

“I can’t.”

Viktor’s hands on him made him remember the night before, and that was almost as distracting as Lilia’s strange expressions from that morning.  She was obviously trying to tell him something, but he didn’t want to understand what that something might have been.

“Stop!”

Yuuri almost fell out of Viktor’s grip around his waist, but luckily, Viktor kept him upright.  He didn’t let go afterwards either, much to Yuuri’s elation and embarrassment.

“Yuuri, are you alright?” Yakov grunted out.

“I’m fine.”

“Then dance like it.  You’re all over the place.”

“Could we take a break?” Viktor asked.  Yakov looked like was about to start yelling again, but when he made eye contact with Viktor, he hesitated.

“Fine.  Ten minutes.  No more.  Chris, you’re running your solo again.”

“Aw, no fair!”

“No whining!”

“Yuuri,” Viktor said with a gentle tug towards the door.  Yuuri followed without a word.  Viktor led them into the company room, which was practically empty, save everyone’s bags and extra clothes.

 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri shrugged when Viktor finally let go of him.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’m just curious as to what’s got you so distracted.”

“I-I just, I’m sorry.  I know I’m messing up rehearsal.”

“You’re not messing up rehearsal, Yuuri.  I’m just worried.”

“Don’t do that.”  Yuuri almost cut Viktor off with how quick the words came out.  “Sorry.”

“You’re fine.  I’m just…I’m not sure how to comfort you.”

“You shouldn’t have to comfort me.”

Viktor gave him a pointed look.  “Does this have anything to do with what Lilia needed to see you for?”

“What? No—”

“Really? Then what did she need to see you for?”

Yuuri actually managed to laugh.  “She was afraid you were hurting me.”

“Hurting you?”

“Like abusing me?”

“ _What?!_ ”

“That was my reaction, too.”

 

“She’s such a worrier.  I can’t believe she’d think I’d do that to you,” he pouted.

“To be fair it was kind of my fault,” Yuuri shrugged.  “I’m clumsy and I have bruises everywhere and she thought…”

Viktor chuckled a little too.  “I’ve noticed the bruises too.  I must admit I was curious, but I figured you’d tell me if it was something serious.”

“Haha,” Yuuri tried to act nonchalant, “Nope, just me being clumsy!”

Viktor’s eye twitched, but if he didn’t believe Yuuri, it didn’t show.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.  Can’t have you joining any underground fight clubs.”

“Is that what you thought it was from?  A fight club?”

“You’re quite full of surprises Yuuri.  You can’t blame me for assuming it was something exciting.”

“Terrifying is more like it.”

“So then what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.  I’m just nervous,” he half-lied.

“About what?”

 

Oh boy.  Yuuri almost wanted to tear his hair out and scream, ‘Everything! I’m nervous about everything!  I have a fucking mental disorder!’  Instead he took a long shuddering breath.  He might as well tell a little bit of the truth, right?

“Performing, I think.”

“Oh.  Isn’t that what you wanted though?”

“No, I mean, yes.  I do want to perform.  I just didn’t think it would be so soon.  In front of so many people.”

“I’m sorry Yuuri, I didn’t mean to put you out of your comfort zone.”

“You did.  And that’s…It’s okay.  I need that sometimes, but now I’m just thinking about what’ll happen if I mess up onstage or if I fall?  What if people can tell that I’m a man, or God forbid, my ribbons fall out,” he chuckled nervously.

“I think that’s normal for performers,” Viktor said.

“Is it true for you?”

“Well, no.  But I’m different.”

“Well, I’ve never been this nervous about a roll before.  Because it didn’t involve me disguising myself as a girl.”

“You haven’t been dancing like Carmen.”  Viktor said it with a blank face, not meeting Yuuri’s eyes.

“What?”

“Before you took Mila’s place yesterday, you danced perfectly, like you were going to charm the pants right off of me.  It was exciting.”  Viktor’s slow smile made Yuuri fidget.  “But now that we have an audience, you’re worried.”

“Well, yeah.”

“You’re focused on the audience.  Focus on me.”

Yuuri muttered under his breath in Japanese, “I’m _too_ focused on you.”

“What was that?”

“It’s hard not to focus on you when you’re all over me.”

“Do you not want me to be all over you?”  He seemed surprised.

“No, no!  You’re supposed to be all over me, that’s the point of the ballet, but—”

 

Viktor stepped back into Yuuri’s personal space and placed two fingers under Yuuri’s chin.  “Yuri, I gave you some advice the first few times we practiced this thing.  Do you remember it?”

“Don’t think?”

“Seduce me.”

Yuuri’s cheeks heated up and he wanted to pull his head away, but Viktor’s eyes were so trained on him, he couldn’t.

“Focus only on seducing me.  Hell, seduce Chris too.  If you can seduce both of us, you can seduce the audience with no problem.”

“Y-Yeah?”  Yuuri lifted a shaking hand up to where Viktor’s fingers rested.  Viktor slid his other arm around Yuuri’s waist, but didn’t pull him closer.

“Yes.  Don’t think about Yakov, or the steps, or anything but making me chase you.  Do you think you can do that?”

“I-I can try.”

“Oh, Yuuri,” he said.  Yuuri was almost afraid of the look on Viktor’s face.  He was smiling so gently, and his eyes were so focused on Yuuri, it almost made Yuuri want to cry.  Just when Yuuri thought he was going to say something, Viktor’s hand snaked down and groped Yuuri’s ass.

 

“Viktor!”

“Sorry,” he said, obviously not sorry at all.  “It’s very nice you know.”

“Yes, I do know!  Now let go!  See, this is why everyone thinks we’re sleeping together.”

Viktor sighed sadly, but acquiesced.  Just as he stepped away from Yuuri, Chris poked his head in.

“Yakov wants to know where the hell you two are.”

“It has _not_ been ten minutes,” groused Viktor.

Chris just shrugged.  “He wants you in the studio now.”

“Come on,” Yuuri said this time.  He grabbed Viktor’s hand as Viktor had done for him earlier.  He couldn’t see Viktor’s face as he led him back into the studio, but if he had looked back, he would have seen that same gentle, loving look he’d been so afraid of just moments before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tour jete](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ywkuaIPsVBA%22%22)  
> [chaîné turns](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zYXeKOcdFso)  
>  Marking is how dancers learn lesson combinations and feel out space in a studio or stage. It's essentially doing a combination without actually doing the steps. The only time you will ever see dancers marking is during class or rehearsal, Never! On!! Stage!!! Our director would tell us to always do arms full-out, regardless of how sloppy our legs were during marking.  
> As always, you can visit me on tumblr [here](https://bastetcg.tumblr.com) if you want to talk about the AU or if you have questions! Or you can just drop a comment here!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this chapter is late!!! I spent most of the day editing an important tech document for my uncle, and then working on a video for my sister's wedding rehearsal, so I was really busy and stressed out all day :(  
> Anyway, this is a fun chapter! Lots of fluffy stuff! and a little bit of spice if you squint.

“Yurotchka has told me a few things.”

Yuuri stiffened where he stood on stage.  Yakov had Yuuri right beside him, watching the corps girls go through the fight scene.  Technically Yuuri was supposed to be up there dancing with them, but Yakov had pulled him downstage, supposedly so he could focus on the girls.  One of them in the back was counting out their steps.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.  Things about you.”

“Oh boy.”

“I didn’t realize you two were such good friends.”

Yuuri laughed nervously.

“Diya, quicker on that catch step.  You’re off count,” he shouted at one of the dancers.  “How long have you and he been doing pointe work?”

“Ah, uh,” Yuuri stuttered, “Since October?  Maybe?”

“Has he been off the barre?”

“Not more than a few minutes, that I know of.”

“Good.  You’re not as stupid as I thought.”

“You thought I was stupid?” Yuuri deadpanned.

“Well, no,” now was Yakov’s turn to be flustered.  “I’m used to Viktor and Chris’s antics, which usually end up with minor injuries or property damage, you understand.”

“Not really.”

“Hmm.  Then what is the word I’m looking for?”

Oh, right.  Yuuri always forgot that English wasn’t this company’s first language.  Hell, it wasn’t even a second language for a lot of dancers.  Even Viktor, who’d learned French second and English third, would sometimes complain that he knew exactly what he was trying to say to Yuuri in Russian, but since Yuuri’s Russian mainly consisted of “Where is the bathroom?” and “Do you speak English?” and Viktor couldn’t find the right words in English…

“Uh, silly?”  Yuuri tried to help.

“No.”

“Ridiculous?”

“Not quite that either.  But a good word for Viktor.”

Yuuri huffed out a laugh.

“I knew you were a careful man, but I didn’t know if that was a selfish careful or not.”

“I’m not sure there’s a word in English for that.  Reckless maybe?”

“Reckless is fine.  Also well-suited for Viktor.”

“Not when he dances.”

“Not when he dances,” Yakov agreed with a slow nod.  “I should thank you for helping Yuri.  Keeping him busy.  He needed something to strive after.”

“I think Otabek might have more to do with that than I do,” Yuuri shrugged.

“Pah! Take the thanks. Talya!” he shouted at one of the girls.  “I don’t pay you for a working leg that sloppy!  Fix it!”

“Yuri works hard.  He’s good to practice with.”

“He’ll be better than Viktor one day,” Yakov replied, with little emotion.  “If he can get that temper of his under control.”

“If he doesn’t break an ankle in his pointe shoes.”

“The same goes for you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re a much more expressive dancer than Viktor ever was.  It’s one of the reasons I’m letting this mess go on stage tomorrow.  When you danced for me yesterday, I could tell you were trying to hold back your feelings, but I could still see them.”

“Oh.”

“But you dance much better when Viktor dances with you.”

“Ha!  That’s just because you can focus less on me,” he joked.

“Viktor’s mentioned that you do that.”

“What?”

“You joke about being bad, but you really believe it, don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” Yuuri admitted.

“Well stop it.  I hear you saying things like that, I’ll make you do bourrees up and down the barre like Lilia makes the girls do.”

“O-Okay.”

“Enough!” shouted Yakov.  The girls all dropped their arms and huffed in unison.  “Again from the top, with Carmen.”  He shoved Yuuri upstage to join them.  They all cleared the way for him to get into position.

 

If Yuuri were honest, he’d expected much more resistance from the girls.  There had been hushed whispers and lingering looks when Yakov had announced Mila’s replacement, but aside from a few of the more vindictive girls, they were just glad that there was someone to take the part so they could perform at all.  Yuuri had to agree, it would have been frustrating to learn and rehearse for four months and then not get to perform at all.  Two girls, Ana and Lubov, had even tried to chat him up about toe pads and warm up exercises during one of their breaks today.

 

Yuuri looked out at the dancers peppered throughout the mostly empty theater, waiting for their turns on stage.  He wished they had more than two days for stage rehearsals.  They were Yuuri’s favorite part of the season.  Back in Detroit, they’d had a week each season, mainly because the company was so big.  The Russian Company was actually a bit strange in its size.  Yakov explained that was because they were so picky about their dancers, but Lilia had said something about funding.  Yuuri was not a stranger to being part of a company that was on the verge of not making returns.  It wasn’t uncommon for dance companies, even the best companies in the world, like the Russian Company, to survive on donations.

 

The reason Yuuri liked stage rehearsals so much was because they were low stress.  Everyone already knew their choreography backwards and forwards, and they didn’t even have to dance full out most of the time.  He had a lot of downtime while Yakov worked with Chris and the corps and J.J., who was actually playing Chris’s boss, much to everyone’s amusement.  After Yuuri’s run through with the girls, they all hoped off the stage.

 

“Will you all take the stairs like normal people!” Yakov practically screamed.  “We’ve already lost two dancers, I don’t need to lose anymore!”

Most of the girls just giggled and hurried off to the rows of plush red seats where they’d hidden their bags.  Yuuri did his best to follow their example.

 

“Yuuri!”

He startled a little, hip smacking into the back of a chair.  “Viktor!  What’s wrong?”

Viktor blinked, but his smile remained intact.  “Why would anything be wrong?  I wanted to ask you about the pas.  Do you have enough energy to go full out?”

“Probably.  Depends on how many times Yakov wants to see my other parts, really.”

“Oh.  Yakov!” Viktor shouted.  His voice echoed in the large theatre.  Some of the dancers looked up from whatever they were doing, but most ignored Viktor.

“For the love of God, Viktor!  What is it?”

“Could Yuuri and I run the pas right now?”

“The whole pas?!  Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Give the boy a rest, would you? He just got done with the fight scene.  Have you even marked it through?”

“We did earlier with Lilia!  Are you good to go now, Yuuri?”

“Yes?”  It wasn’t like he needed to rest.  But he’d kind of been looking forward to it.

“He says he’s fine!” Viktor shouted.  Yuuri was sure that even if he’d been in one of the balcony seats, he would have heard Viktor quite clearly.

“Do what you like then.  Ridiculous.”

“Come on then!  Might as well get it done now.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  He made his way back up to the stage, this time with Viktor.  They took their places for the pas de duex, Viktor onstage for his variation, and Yuuri waiting in the wings.  Viktor went through his part perfectly, of course.  Yuuri watched every step, every line, every finger, fall into perfect place.  Usually, that would astound and frustrate Yuuri in equal terms, but today, he just felt determined.

 

And that’s when it clicked.  Lilia.  Yuri.  Viktor.  Yakov.  All of them had been telling him for ages that he could do this.  Maybe not this specifically.  And not maybe as outright as Viktor had.  But Yuri had been practicing with him en pointe.  Why bother practicing with someone unless they were at least decent?  Not that Yuri would ever admit that Yuuri was anything better than decent.  Yuuri smiled at the thought.  And Lilia was refitting that costume for Yuuri.  She was worried about Yuuri, told him he was a good influence on Viktor.  And Yakov, just moments ago, casually mentioning that Yuuri would be better than Viktor someday.  They were all so confident in him.  They were all relying on him not to ruin this performance.  It was a scary thought, but they were honest people, and they had put their faith in him.

 

As he entered from stage left, he licked his lips.  Viktor continued counting out the steps for them, and they circled each other with measured steps.  Then Yuuri let Viktor approach him, only to push him away and triple step away.  Yuuri almost laughed at how wide Viktor’s eyes got.  Yuuri went through his steps, pressing hard against the sides of his shoes, forcing himself to be just as perfect as Viktor.  He put quite a bit of hip into his step over develope turns, and even more into his beated piques.  He was right up against Viktor, as the choreography prescribed.  He noticed Viktor’s hands twitch, and gave him a sly wink as he strutted away.

 

Viktor was still counting, but he sounded a little stifled.  Yuuri let the turns carry him towards and away from Viktor.  It was strange though.  Usually Viktor would attempt teasing touches or embraces for Yuuri to flee from for the sake of the chase they were trying to portray, but Viktor’s hands stayed were they were, one firmly grasping his own hip, the other held out in presentation.  It must have just been the surprise, Yuuri reasoned as his solo came to an end.

 

They could finally move together, completing each other’s steps and letting their arms connect, even if only for a moment.  Viktor still seemed strained for some reason.  When Yuuri turned inwards towards Viktor’s arms, ending with his back pressed against Viktor’s chest, Viktor let out a very shaky exhale.  As quickly as they connected, they were off each other again.  And there was supposed to be a lingering touch there…what was Viktor doing?

 

Viktor tilted Yuuri forward for the arabesque penche, and then brought Yuuri back towards him.  He was supposed to tilt Yuuri’s head up to look at him in this hold, but he must have been so focused on counting that he forgot, so Yuuri took control and ran his own fingers along Viktor’s jaw.  He received another shuddering breath.  Very strange.  But the ballroom section was next, and Yuuri did not have time to worry about Viktor right now.  Viktor’s hands were less harsh than they usually were, but Yuuri pressed himself into them as best he could.

 

“Come on, grab me,” he hissed through his teeth.  He was not going to be letting Viktor lift him if he didn’t grab a little harder.  Viktor’s face was priceless.  “Harder, Viktor.”

“Lewd,” was the only comment he got back between mumbled numbers.  In fact, Viktor lost count for half an eight.

“Your _hands_ , Viktor,” he tried to explain.

 

Viktor’s grip did get tighter, but it was still unusually loose.  It would be safe though, and that’s what he cared about.  Yuuri bit his lower lip as Viktor spun him around and practically threw him out of and pulled him back in to the ballroom hold.  Next was the fouettes and the fish.  Yuuri knew they’d be good turns the moment he took off.  Even without Viktor’s hands around his waist, Yuuri could feel how stable he was.  How the fish turned out was really up to Viktor.  Viktor had never dropped him before, but today Yuuri prayed for his wrists and knees when Viktor’s hands wrapped around his thigh and stomach.  The floor rushed towards his face, then stilled, and a moment later he was back on his platform.  There were a few more press lifts, a few more jumps and turns together, but it was all over before Yuuri could even process it.

Yuuri stood from his pose, kneeling and hugging Viktor’s knees (a last minute suggestion from Lilia), and took a deep breath of air.  The dancers in the audience applauded, which mostly sounded sad in the hollow theater.  Chris wolf whistled from the back.  Then Yakov grunted.

“I thought this was supposed to be a mutual seducing.”

“Huh?”  Yuuri rotated his right ankle and shook his foot out.  “It is.”

Yakov turned to Viktor.  “Then what the hell were you doing?”

“Don’t know what you mean,” Viktor grinned.

“You’re supposed to seduce him back, aren’t you?  Not look like a blushing school girl with her first crush.  And your partnering.  Vitya, I’ve never seen you so sloppy!”

“S-Sorry.  I was, uh, distracted?”

“Really.”  Yakov’s eyes flicked over to Yuuri for just barely a second.  “Well, get _un-distracted_ before Friday, will you?”

“Yes, Yakov.”

“Looked good from back here!” Chris shouted.

“Shut up, Chris!” Yurio yelled from somewhere near the orchestra pit.

“Yuri! You’re being too loud!” called J.J.

“You shut up too, you over rated Clark Kent knock-off!”

“Yuuri you did great!  Very sexy!” came Kenjirou’s voice.  Yuuri could feel his face heating up under the hot lights.  Some of the girls Kenjirou was with began cheering too.  Unlike the clapping earlier, the dancers’ voices began filling the white paneled walls

“Everyone shut up!” Yakov shouted at the top of his lungs.  Everyone went quiet.  Yakov ran a hand down his face and muttered something Yuuri probably wouldn’t have understood even if he spoke Russian.  “Fine!  Dinner time!  We’re walking over to Saffron Queens.”

 

The theater probably shook with the reaction that created.

 

Mila stepped out from stage left where she’d been watching rehearsal.  Yuuri admired her dedication.  He didn’t know if he would have had the energy to keep attending rehearsals with a sprained ankle.  Didn’t know if be emotionally able to handle someone else dancing his part.  She was still in crutches, so when she got to the stairs at the front of the stage, Yakov took them from her, and used his free hand to help her down.  With a pat on the butt from Viktor, Yuuri started after her too.

 

He felt uncomfortable sitting next to her at dinner.  They hadn’t really spoken since visiting Emil.  There hadn’t really been time.  So when they were all sitting in the banquet room of a small baroque inspired restaurant, Yuuri did his best to be not awkward.  Which probably made him more awkward than he had any right being, but regardless…His discomfort must have shown.

 

“God, will you chill out,” Yurio stuck his tongue out.  “She’s not going to eat you or something, even if she does look like Baba Yaga.”

“Yuri!” Viktor chided from Yuuri’s other side.  “Be nice to Mila.  Her boot probably weighs more than you do.”

“Yeah.  Be nice to me,” she sassed back.  Then she pointed at Yuuri, “And you.  I’m not upset.  I’m actually very impressed.  You were amazing today.  Totally out shined Viktor.”

“Hey!”

“She’s right,” Yuri mumbled into his plate of salmon.  “If you ruin this performance because you can’t keep your gay little hands to yourself, I’ll kill you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Viktor, rolling his eyes.

“Are you fucking serious.”

“Yura!” Yakov spat, “Language!”

“What? You want me to say it in Russian?”

“Yuri,” Otabek chided, finally joining the conversation, although Yuuri suspected he’d been eavesdropping the whole time.  “Be nice to Yakov.  He doesn’t have many years left.”

“Beka!” Yakov shouted.  Then he turned on Viktor.  “I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, Vitya.  You’re not exactly young yourself.”

 

“Excuse you!” Viktor huffed.  “At least I’m not the one flirting with our waiter,” Viktor gave a nod towards Diya, who was, in fact, giggling playfully behind a drink menu and making eyes at the boy filling her water glass two tables over.

“Ah!  None of that!” Yakov waddled through the chairs to discipline her, which left their table even less supervised than before.

“What’s gotten into everyone tonight?” Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh.  Sure, there were usually a good number of jabs at Viktor on any given night, but the excited energy that everyone was emitting, the carefree joking and grins, it made Yuuri so happy he had to twiddle his thumb.  Excitement.  This was excitement.  It felt like…happy anxiety.  He grinned to himself.

“Huh?” Yuri grunted.

“It’s always like this during tours,” Mila shrugged.  She picked the capers of her lamb chop.  “All the work’s done, you know.  It’s just the actual performances that have to get done now.”

“Yeah…” Yuuri agreed.  He already knew that.  That wasn’t it.

“You startled me today, you know.  When you danced,” Viktor said.  He laced his fingers together and rested his chin over them.

“I thought I distracted you.”

“That too.  It was a very pleasant surprise.  If you dance like that during our tour, I think we will get quite the reviews.”

“Ah, uh, thank you.”

“Aww, he’s blushing!” Mila teased.

“He’s always blushing,” snorted Yurio.

“You are too,” Otabek commented.  Sure enough, Yurio’s face began to turn pink.

“Oh, that’s too good!” Viktor said with a laugh.  “What’s wrong Yura?  Do you get embarrassed around Beka a lot?”

“No!”

“Aww,” cooed Mila.  “Young love!”

“Fuck off!  God you two sound like Georgi!”

“Did you hear he got back together with Anya?”

“Mila, no one cares,” tutted Viktor.

“I care!” she said, offeneded.  “It’s better than any soap opera on TV,” she whispered to Yuuri.  “Like watching a house on fire.”

“Oooh…” Yuuri said, not really understanding.  He couldn’t help but laugh at her seriousness though.  She reminded him a little bit of Phichit.

Oh.  So that’s what was different.  Phichit had been Yuuri’s only friend back in Detroit. He actually kind of wished Phichit were with them in that restaurant.  Then again, he’d probably start telling stories about all of Yuuri’s most embarrassing moments.  But Yuuri had never had this many friends before.  Even back in Hasetsu, it had been Vicchan, Yuu-chan, and Nishigori.  Yuuri grinned down into his plate.  Viktor nudged Yuuri’s arm.

“Are you alright?  It’s kind of loud here.”

“Yeah.  I’m having a good time.  I’m.  Um.  I’m glad you made Yakov accept me into the company.”

Viktor’s eyes shot open and he leaned away in surprise.  Then his face grew into a huge grin and he laughed.

“Waiter! A round of drinks for the seniors!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will get to putting in links I promise!! That being said, all the previous chapters have their links up!! Next week's chapter is opening night, so get excited!
> 
> As always, comments and questions are encouraged!! Thank you for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got the costume sketches up!! Please ignore my very limited artistic skills, but I finally uploaded the costume pictures, which you can view  
> [here](http://bastetcg.tumblr.com/post/158525135199/sketches-of-yuuri-and-viktor-costumes-for-the)
> 
> Enjoy the performance! Or at least the first part!

Yuuri heard the door to the dressing room open, but did not realize it was Viktor entering until he turned the corner and appeared in the mirror.  The room was an absolute mess, even though there were only ten men in both companies, but Yuuri was used to that.  No doubt the senior girls’ room was an even bigger catastrophe.  Yuuri had cleared a space between his and Guang Hong’s bags and was kneeling on the counter, desperately trying to apply eyeliner in a way that didn’t make him look like a raccoon.  Viktor blinked into the bright lights lining the wall-length mirror, but tried to grin at Yuuri despite his grimace.  Then his face dropped.

 

“Yuuri what the hell are you doing?”

Yuuri turned to face him, feeling a little out of place.  “I told you I have no idea how make up works.”

“Oh my God.”

“I told you!”  In Yuuri’s opinion, he didn’t look _too_ bad.  Apparently Viktor had other opinions.

“You look good in all your Instagram pictures,” Viktor noted.

Yuuri leveled him a suspicious glare.  Viktor didn’t follow Yuuri on Instagram.  He’d told Viktor months ago he didn’t have one.

“I mean Phichit’s Instagram pictures.”

“Okay, and Phichit did my makeup.  Can you read, or?”

Something must have short circuited in Viktor’s head, because his immediate response was, “No! I—”

 

He and Yuuri realized how that sounded at the same time, because as soon as Yuuri was hunched over laughing, Viktor was desperately trying to back-track.

 

“I can read!  I just meant I _hadn’t_ read that Phichit did your makeup!”

“That sounds exactly like something someone who can’t read would say,” Yuuri teased.

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Yuuri laughed.

“You know what this means though, don’t you?”  Viktor continued on when Yuuri just shook his head in response.  “You know my deepest darkest secret.  We’re going to have to ship you out to Siberia to make sure you don’t tell anyone.”

“Siberia, huh?  Looks like you’ll be out a danseur then.”

“Hmm.”  Viktor leaned in closer, resting his hands on the edge of the formica counter.  Yuuri belatedly realized that he and Viktor were flirting.  Was Yurio right?  Were they constantly being gross?  Warmth crept up his neck.  “Well, we can’t have that.  Not before opening night.  You’ll just have to swear not to tell anyone.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that,” Yuuri said.  He leaned back as Viktor leaned in.  This was definitely flirting.  But Viktor was definitely only teasing him with it.  He and Chris did this all the time; playful banter and a little inappropriate groping.  It was nothing for Yuuri to get excited about.

“Keep it to yourself and I’ll fix your eye makeup.”

“Deal.”

Viktor pushed off the counter and practically strutted over to his own bag a few meters away.  He pulled out his own makeup case, a red and pink thing with a gold zipper.  Watching Viktor cautiously, Yuuri shifted so his legs hung off the counter’s edge.  When Viktor came back, he pushed Yuuri’s legs apart so he could stand closer to Yuuri’s face.

 

“The dress looks fantastic on you,” he said.

“Uh, thanks.”  In truth, Yuuri wasn’t sure people would buy his performance. Viktor pulled out a makeup wipe and began rubbing the black mess from around Yuuri’s eyes.  It took a while and a little scrubbing on Viktor’s part, but when Yuuri glanced back into the mirror behind him, he was completely bare-faced.

“Your makeup?”

“Oh, right.  Here,” Yuuri handed him his own bag of makeup.

“Hmm.  I’ve never done eyeshadow on monolids.  It might take me a few tries.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Not your fault.  I’m the one who neglected to learn.”

Yuuri snorted.  “At least you know how to do make up at all.”  Viktor was looking through Yuuri’s limited number of eyeshadow palettes and foundation compacts.

 

“Luckily this is not my first time contouring a male face so it looks female.”

“Really?”

“I might have frequented a few drag bars in my youth.”

“R-really?”

“I’m quite the lip-sync queen, actually.”

Yuuri tried not to laugh, but giggles bubbled up in him anyway.  “Is it bad that I can totally see that?”

“You mean it doesn’t surprise you?”

“Not really.”

“What if I told you my drag name was Teeny Blini?”

Yuuri almost choked.  “Oh my God, that’s terrible! You’re joking right?”

“Maybe.”

“That is like the worst drag name I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh hush.  I have to make you look pretty.”

Yuuri tried to rein his smile in so that Viktor could work.  Viktor had apparently found the foundation he was looking for and began smearing liquid concealer all over Yuuri’s face.  A few swipes of a brush later, and Viktor was asking Yuuri to close his eyes.  He flinched at the first touch, the way he always did when Phichit did his makeup.

“Sorry.”

“Again, not your fault,” Yuuri breathed out.  The brush swiped over his eyelids several times, supposedly adding more power to Yuuri’s eyes.  He could feel his lids flutter with every touch and hated how his nerves began boiling in his stomach.

 

“I’m gonna put the eyeliner on now.  Don’t open your eyes yet.”

The liquid liner Viktor used was much different than the pencil Yuuri usually gave Phichit to use.  It was cold for just a moment, but then it was gone.  Viktor barely used any pressure as he dragged the thin brush over the edge of Yuuri’s eyelids.

“Okay, open your eyes.  Let’s see.”  Yuuri watched Viktor hover for a few moments, taking Yuuri’s face in from several angles.  “Do you have false lashes?”

“Yeah, Mila gave me a pair.  I have no idea how to use them.”

“Where are they?”  

Yuuri rummaged through the side pocket of his dance bag and pulled out the small plastic container and handed it to Viktor.

“No glue?”

“For what?”

“These.”  He gently shook the box.

“I thought they just stuck on?”

Viktor laughed.  “Luckily for you, I think I have some in here.” 

 

He shuffled through his makeup bag again and grinned triumphantly when he found the tiny tube of eyelash glue.  Viktor explained the finer points of lash application as he worked, but mostly Yuuri was trying to bask in his attention.  When both eyes were lashed, Viktor took Yuuri’s chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted his head around.  He made a few tutting noises, and pulled a gold tube of lipstick.  When he uncapped it, it revealed the brightest red Yuuri’s eyes had ever seen.  He didn’t know they made lipstick that red.  That being said, he knew enough about this part of the process to open his mouth wide and taut.  Viktor actually pulled back for a moment in surprise.

 

“What?” Yuuri asked, worried.

“Nothing. Uh, sorry.”

Yuuri opened his mouth again, and Viktor smeared the thick red paste over his lips.  Viktor swallowed loudly and put the lipstick away.

“All done.  See if you like it.”

Yuuri turned to face the mirror again.  It was strange seeing himself made up like this.  It wasn’t that he didn’t recognize himself or anything.  He still had the same flat nose and dark eyebrows.  But he was…pretty.  He didn’t have his usual plain air about him anymore.  The makeup was heavy, like it usually was for performances.  Viktor had been very liberal with the eyeliner, but it made his eyes look a little wider, and the eyeshadow gave his face a little more depth.  He was tempted to bite his lip, but remembered the tacky lipstick.

“Well?”

“This is amazing.  I don’t know how you did it.”

“Not that hard when your face is already amazing,” Viktor said to their reflections.

 

Rolling his eyes, Yuuri turned back to face Viktor.  “Don’t tell Phichit, but I think you might be better at this than him.”

“You flatter me.  I’m sure it’s only because Phichit had to keep you looking manly.”

“Maybe.  Thank you.”

“My pleasure.  The fake bun was a good idea.  Lilia’s idea?”

“Yeah.  She did my hair for me.”

“You look, uh…You look nice.”  Viktor forced himself to grin not-so-casually.

“You too.”

 

Viktor had already done his makeup, if the heavy blue tones at the corner of his eyes were any indication.  He was in his old costume from Cinderella, all white and gold to Yuuri’s black and red.  Viktor had opted to leave the top two dress shirt buttons unbuttoned, and the gold tie Lilia had given him hung loose.  She must have had time to add epaulets and sequins to the top and some gold trim around the calves as well, because Viktor was practically glittering from the white lights

“We still have twenty minutes ‘til curtain.  If you put on your pointe shoes, we can go warm up a little more on stage.”

“Sounds good.  Give me a minute.”

 

~

 

The performance was going very well.  Almost too well.  Chris and Yuuri’s opening solos had practically been perfect.  There had been one set of turns that felt a little off and had Yuuri hopping off his box, but other than that, his steps had fallen into sync with the music easily.  Yuuri watched from offstage as the corps began to form a large circle.

 

One thing Yuuri liked about shows was that most the time, the lights were too bright for him to even see the audience.  Plus, it wasn’t like he’d be able to make out individual faces in the audience anyway.  Not without his glasses.  Viktor was in the wing on the other side of the stage, and was currently making stupid faces at Yuuri.  Yuuri flipped him off with a hushed laugh.  The stage hand sitting on a stool next to him gave him dirty look.  Yuuri almost felt bashful about it.  They had approximately seven counts of eight before Yuuri’s entrance into the fight scene, and Viktor was _vogueing_ at him.  Mila was losing her mind in the chair next to him.  She was practically hunched over with her mouth covered.  Yuuri wasn’t much better.  He mouthed the word ‘stop’ as obviously as he could, but Viktor just put a delicate hand to his chest and gave what Yuuri had to assume was a suave look.  Then he turned around and began attempting to _twerk_ , which didn’t work very well considering he didn’t have a cell of fat on his body and his ass didn’t shake at all.

 

Yuuri was going to kill him after the performance.

 

Two counts of eight.  He watched Mila smack an arm out at Viktor in an attempt to get him to stop as she crumbled off her chair and onto the ground.  Yuuri tried to reign in his expression as best he could before taking his prep steps.  He was a woman about to get her ass handed to her in the markets.  He was crying from fear, not repressed laughter.

 

Then he burst onto the stage and let his feet carry him.  A few of the girls from the senior company were on his side of the fight, fouettéing at the men and slipping from their grasps with well-timed chassé’s.  Others were twirling about making it more difficult for Yuuri and his girls to escape, pushing them off their toes during bourrée’s.  Where was Georgi?  He was the one who was supposed to catch Yuuri.  Yuuri needed to find him.  Yuuri needed to find the green mark they were supposed to meet at and—

 

Oh, there Georgi was.  Right on time too.  Yuur lifted his leg and caught it mid-air, letting Georgi grab his hips and turn him towards the chief.  J.J. played that part almost too well, Yuuri thought to himself.

 

And then Yuuri was in jail, attempting to seduce Chris.  God, was this show really this long?  It never seemed to drag on this way in the studio.  Even the opening scenes hadn’t seemed this long.  Maybe it was because they were getting closer and closer to the pas de duex.  Yuuri tried to remind himself that this was how it always was with shows and that he needed to focus less on the end of the performance and more on the steps he was supposed to be dancing right then.  He presented Chris with his pointed foot, then wrapped his lower leg around Chris’s, in a parody of a tango.  Chris caught him as he fell and placed him back up on pointe.  Once Yuuri had successfully seduced his captor, it was time to play hard to get.  He remembered Viktor explaining the story line to Mila months ago.  Carmen wanted to get out, not be in love.  Especially not with her captor.

 

He pulled his head away when Chris ran his lips over Yuuri’s neck, feigning shyness.  And then with the flick of his wrist, he blew Chris a kiss and fluttered offstage, right into Viktor’s chest.

 

“I’m going to kill…you…” he panted out.

“Why?”

“For that…shit earlier…”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Viktor, shut up, I’m still not over haw stupid you looked twerking,” Mila whispered.  “Do us all a favor and stick to ballet, alright?”

“Excuse you, I am talented in all forms of dance!”

“Keep your voice down, would you?” Yuuri giggled.  “If Yakov’s backstage he’ll kill us for talking.”

“He’s in the audience right now,” said Viktor.  “Can’t you see him?”

“I can barely see _you_!”

“Why don’t you wear contacts then?”

“They make me cry.  And I’d hate to ruin the wonderful job you did on my make up.”

“God, you guys are so gross.”

One of the stage hands shushed them a little louder than necessary.  Only then did Yuuri realize he was holding onto Viktor’s upper arms, and Viktor hand his own hands curled around Yuuri’s elbows.

“Oh, uh sorry!” he pulled away and Viktor chuckled.

“Don’t worry about it.”

 

Chris was barely halfway through his very long, very dramatic solo when Yuuri turned back to watch.  Viktor rested his chin on Yuuri’s head, careful of the flower and bun pinned into Yuuri’s hair.  They watched Chris leap and land on his knees pining after Yuuri, or rather, Carmen.

 

“You were very convincing out there.”

Yuuri felt the words reverberate through his skull more than he heard them.

“Thanks.  It was kinda hard when someone was making it difficult to focus.”

“Payback for distracting me during rehearsals.”

“That’s not fair.  I’m just doing my job.  You’re being extra.”

“Extra what?”

“Just, uh, just extra.  You know, like you’re doing more than you have to?  It’s an American thing.”

“I’ll have to ask Leo about it.”

“Will you two shut up?” came a new voice. “God, you two are fucking obnoxious,” Yurio hissed.  He was all dressed up in the dull traje de luces the male corps wore for the bullfight scene.  He had his stool in his hand.  “Also, fuck you Viktor, I hate this section.”

“You say that every time we do the toreador section,” Viktor complained.

“That’s because I hate it more each time we do it.”

“I couldn’t just change the whole dance around Yurio. I took enough liberties as it is, don’t you think?”

“Since when have you ever cared about the original choreography of this piece?  Or any piece for that matter?”

“Since the beginning!”  Viktor lifted his head off of Yuuri’s to face Yurio.  “I only changed a few sections.  And it’s not like I can just rearrange the whole toreador’s scene!  It’s one of the most iconic parts of the piece!”

Yurio rolled his eyes.  Yuuri had to admit he was glad he wasn’t part of the corps for the next section.  It was a lot of stomping and rhythmical clapping, and there wasn’t really much interesting to do until Escamillo appeared a minute-and-a-half into the music.

 

The lights onstage faded, signaling a change in scene.  Yurio and all the other male corps members quietly took their stools and slunk on stage.  Viktor sighed.

“Looks like I have to go take my place.  Don’t keep me waiting, okay?”

Like Yuuri had a choice.  He nodded and watched as Viktor’s glittery costume disappeared around the final wing curtain.

 

The stage set up for Carmen was strange.  There were two large boards of plywood extending from the final wing, each painted to look like sandy brick wall.  A third piece of plywood stood a few feet in front of the gap at center stage, allowing dancers a third way onto stage.  Essentially, Viktor would be entering from the middle of the stage.  How fitting, Yuuri almost laughed.

 

Viktor entered the scene with brimming confidence, as usual.  Much to Yuuri’s delight, he seemed to have much more expression than he had in the tapes Lilia had shown him.  He landed his leaps cleanly and danced to the bombastic notes of the toreador’s march like he couldn’t have danced anything else.  Yuuri felt his stomach.  He had to tell himself again that it was excitement, not nervousness.  He’d be joining Viktor in a few more counts of eight.  He took his own place behind the final curtain.  This was it.  This is what would set the tone for the rest of their two-month tour.  This, for a lot of potential patrons, would determine whether the production was worth seeing.

Yuuri watched as the men’s corps strutted around their stools.  Guang Hong gave him a quick wink and a small grin from where he stood.  He was the only one Yuuri could really see from his angle behind the center panel.  He counted.

Five, six, seven, eight—

 

~

 

Viktor was in way over his head.  Way, way, _way_ in over his head.

Yuuri was the most distracting man he’d ever known, and Yuuri didn’t even seem to care.  And when he fluttered those fake eyelashes from halfway across the stage, Viktor knew he needed to be careful.  Very, very careful.  To be honest, Viktor wasn’t sure he was going to be able to complete their pas.

 

It had all seemed fine when it was Yuuri pretending to be hopelessly lost in Mila, but this was too real for Viktor.  He was doomed.  Absolutely doomed.  He’d probably set himself up for death-by-longing when he’d pleaded for Yakov to admit Yuuri months ago.  He could pinpoint the exact moment he’d screwed himself though.  It was the first practice session they’d danced this exact pas together.  That was the first time Yuuri had actually _flirted back_.

 

Now Yuuri watched him with those same dark eyes, practically making him forget where he was.  Viktor watched as Yuuri executed his turns and developes with ease that taunted Viktor.

Viktor hadn’t really understood those stupid “a man who can do both” memes Chris was always showing him until he’d met Yuuri.  God, what was he doing?  He was on stage, he really didn’t need to be thinking with his dick right now.  He clenched his teeth together tighter than they already were.

 

How Yuuri could go from adorably laughing at Viktor’s lame attempts at dancing anything but ballet to the literal sexiest man on the planet was beyond Viktor.  Questioning it would probably make Yuuri disappear like some kind of mythical creature.  Or maybe a cryptid.

 

Anyway, Viktor had been flirting as hard as he could at Yuuri.  And sometimes it seemed like it worked, but other times Yuuri didn’t respond in kind.  Sometimes he’d completely ignore Viktor’s innuendos and carry on as if the conversation hadn’t turned flirty.  Other times he shut the conversation down in favor of practicing.  Viktor couldn’t be sure if Yuuri was actually interested in him, or if he was just indulging Viktor’s playful attitude, so he hadn’t come right out and asked Yuuri for a real romantic date.  He didn’t think that he’d be able to handle it if Yuuri turned him down.  Just the thought of it made Viktor’s breath catch.

 

Right then, Yuuri was doing those hip rolls that Viktor had choreographed for Mila, and _God_ , why hadn’t he changed the choreography!  He was an idiot!  He hadn’t thought this through and now the entire country of Russia was going to see Yuuri and try and steal him away.

Okay.  Maybe Viktor _was_ a little extra.  Whatever that meant.  But a quick look at Yuuri catching his leg mid-air and pulling it behind his shoulder told Viktor he wasn’t wrong.  He was sure that half the men in the audience were lusting after Carmen-Yuuri at that very moment, and the rest of them would have been if they knew he was really a man.

Yuuri struck his pose.  Then the music shifted to the coda.  Yuuri began slinking around Viktor like a cat, as the choreography dictated.

‘Well,’ Viktor thought. ‘Here we go.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fouette](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fo250jmBl6I) (We reference the turns, at the beginning of the video)  
> [chasse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjFbdeKL7lw)  
> [partnered fouttes (The first turn in the video is the first turn that Yuuri and Viktor do together)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MoaDv1hxv8%22%22)  
> 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second half of the performance! I've noticed that on tumblr, even when people tag me in things, they don't always show up in my notifications, so I'm now tracking the tag #yoifondue !!! So if you for whatever reason want to share a video, piece of art, song, etc. with me and Elena, just use that tag!! I'll alos be using that tag for announcements, extras, deleteed scenes, and all that fun stuff!  
> Also, please ignore my very limited artistic skills, but I finally uploaded images of Yuuri and Viktor's costumes [here](http://bastetcg.tumblr.com/post/158525135199/sketches-of-yuuri-and-viktor-costumes-for-the)

“God, this is so gross to watch.”

“Shh!” Mila hissed.

“What?” Yuri spat back.

“Yakov’s not in the audience anymore. He’s probably prowling around backstage.”

“I don’t care!  It’s not like there’s much left for us to do anyway.  What’s he going to do, kick me out of the company?”

Mila rolled her eyes.  They both knew that wasn’t an option.  “Okay, but if you don’t hush the audience will here you.”

“Let ‘em!”

“Yura.”  Otabek’s voice came from behind him.  “Be professional.”

 

Yuri grimaced, but kept his mouth shut.  The three of them watched in silence for a few moments.  Chris and Viktor were currently fighting for Yuuri’s affections, with J.J. in the background, trying to arrest all of them.  It was pretty obvious that the real chemistry was between Viktor and Yuuri.  Amelia, the girl playing Fate, all dressed in black, was circling ominously as the scene played out.

“Yuuri’s doing very well,” Otabek noted quietly.

“He fuckin’ better.”

“Do you think anyone realizes he’s a man?” Mila asked.

Otabek shrugged.  “It can be hard to tell from on stage.”

“I heard Lilia edited the program so it’s just everyone’s first initial and last name so it’d be harder to tell the gender of the dancers,” Yuri nodded.  “I don’t think Yuuri’s really famous enough to be recognized by just his last name.”

“You’re probably right.”

Mila snorted.  “The only ones famous enough for that are Viktor and Lilia.”

“I’ll tell J.J. you said that,” Otabek said.  Yuri noticed a slight grin on his friend’s face and scowled.

“Oh, God, please do.  Maybe it’ll shut him up for once.”

“Doubtful,” Yuri pouted.  He wasn’t jealous of Mila.  He wasn’t.  He knew that Otabek and she were friends.  Who wouldn’t want to be friends with Otabek?  But Yuri wanted Otabek to save that smile for _him_.

Fate was stealing Escamillo and Don José away from Carmen, but Carmen wouldn’t let any of them leave her for long.  Yuuri wove his way through the three of them and pulled Viktor out of Amelia’s grasp for just a moment before Chris threw himself between them.  Yuri almost felt bad for the five of them.  They had spent hours after normal rehearsals to practice this section, and even longer during stage run-throughs.  They had all known their choreography, but five different people all partnering each other wasn’t exactly easy to coordinate.

 

“I hated this section,” Mila grunted, almost as if reading Yuri’s mind.  “It’s just everyone throwing each other around.”

“That’s Viktor’s choreography for you,” Yuri grumbled back.

“I don’t think he actually changed much in this section,” said Otabek.  “Maybe a few lifts and turns, but I think it’s still the original Alonso choreography.”

“No, I think he only kept a few eights,” Mila whispered.  “I know there was supposed to be a whole lot more dragging Carmen around.  I watched like four different versions.  I don’t know what it is about Alonso, but he really likes drags.”

“Well, Viktor kept one drag,” Yuri muttered.

“That wasn’t even funny, Yuri,” said Mila.

“He did a very good job with his makeup.  He’s beautiful en pointe as well,” Otabek said quietly.  Yuri whipped his head around to glare at Otabek.  They stared at each other for a quiet moment.  Mila turned her head away, but Yuri was sure she was trying to hide a smile.  He wanted to push her off her chair.

“His point’s not all that great.”

“I guess it could be better, but he makes a good Carmen.”

Yuri gaped at him.

 

“He’s really captured the sensuality of the part, hasn’t he?”  Mila had a shit-eating grin on her face, and she said it more to Yuri than she did to Otabek.  Scratch pushing her out of the chair, he was going to fan-kick her in the face.

“Pfft!” he hissed.  “He’s okay.  Anyone could be ‘sensual’ if they wanted to.”

“And you would know so much about sensuality, wouldn’t you Yuri?” Mila smirked.  “After all, a fifteen-year-old like you would have so much experience with that kind of thing, right?”

He was going to kill her.

Scoffing, he opened his mouth to reply, but Otabek spoke up before he could begin his diatribe.

“Given a few years, I think Yura could make an even better Carmen.”

“I suppose I could see that,” Mila admitted.  Yuri was staring at Otabek for different reasons now.

“What?”

“N-nothing.”

“Hmm.”

“Only if you were Escamillo.”  Yuuri felt his cheeks heating up and thanked God for the darkness.  Otabek’s eyebrows rose in surprise.  “I just wouldn’t want to have to dance with Viktor or Chris.  They’re fucking idiots.  Don’t know where to grab or anything.”

Mila was desperately trying to hold in her laughter, but Yuri refused to look at her.  Otabek only looked mildly surprised now.

“I don’t know how good of a partner I’d be.  I never get much practice during men’s classes.”

“We’ve partnered a little during practices.  You’re good at it.”

“Unfortunate that we won’t be doing _Carmen_ again anytime soon then,” Otabek said.  He averted his eyes from Yuri, and focused on the dance on stage.  Yuri did the same, trying desperately to ignore Mila’s quiet snickers.  He could see across stage, into the other wings.  Yakov was currently berating Georgi and Anya for whatever reason.  Yuri schooled his expression.  Yakov would be visiting them next, and as much as Yuri would love for Mila to get told off, he knew that Yakov would find a way to blame him for any mischief going on on their side of stage.

 

Yuuri tossed his head to the side as Chris attempted to caress his face.  Viktor swooped in to save him, but J.J. threw his arm between them and took Yuuri from Chris’s clutches.  God, this ballet was so dramatic.  No wonder Viktor picked it; it suited him perfectly.

“Yura, we should get into position.”

“Yeah.  Right.”

Yuri tore his eyes away from Viktor and Yuuri dancing together, against Fate and law enforcement.  They spun together, they grabbed at each other, they laced fingers.  Yuri could practically see himself in Carmen’s roll.  He watched Yuuri’s hips, then his feet.  He would have added a flex to that piqué, even if Viktor hadn’t choreographed it that way.  And he would have put his hips into it a little more.

“Yura,” Otabek called a little harsher from the final wing.

“Fuck, sorry, right!”  Mila laughed as he stepped into line behind Beka and Kenjirou.

 

~

 

The lights went out on their scene.  Yuuri raced as quickly as he could off stage, Chris and J.J. right behind him.  When the lights came up again, the men’s corps had taken their places along the set with their stools once again.  Viktor and Amelia began the final bullfight.  J.J. practically collapsed against the poor stagehand who was trying not to collapse under the unexpected weight.

“God, I’m so glad that’s over with,” he panted.  There was about ten minutes of dancing left for Viktor, Chris, and Yuuri, but J.J. was done until bows.  Chris rolled his eyes at J.J.’s theatrics.

“If his stamina is that bad, he should be grateful he didn’t get cast as Escamillo after all.”

Yuuri failed to keep in his snort.  Chris was right though.  Even though J.J. technically had a lead role, it was really more of a solo role than anything else.  He didn’t have nearly the amount of stage time that the other leads did.  Technically, the corps had more dancing to do than J.J.  They just happened to be lining the edges of the arena rather than dancing within it.

Chris gave Yuuri a friendly pat on the shoulder, then a slight squeeze.  “You’re killing it out there.  Now it’s time for me to kill you.”

Yuuri grinned and reached to push his glasses up.  Chris gave him another squeeze when Yuuri realized his glasses weren’t on his face.

“Thanks, Chris.  If someone had to kill me I’m glad it’s going to be you.”

They’d had this conversation a few times before, but the joke actually felt funny this time, considering the giddiness Yuuri felt when he performed.

“Alright.  Let’s go.  Make it believable.”

 

They intruded on Viktor and Amelia’s fight right on time.  Similar to the last scene, it was a torrent of confusing switches and dynamic blocking.  Yuuri and Amelia were using each other as counterweights at one point, only to break away and chase the men.  Then Yuuri was spinning in Viktor’s hold.  He stepped out of the turns only for Chris to accost him.  Their embrace was even shorter as Yuuri threw Chris away and chasséd back to Amelia.  Poor girl looked exhausted, but she didn’t let the fierce, determined look fall from her face.  Chris was approaching them, Viktor a few meters behind.

This was it.  This was when Yuuri died.

He threw himself towards Viktor, but let Chris catch him around the waist at center stage.  They both looked down at Chris’s fist.  Yuuri pulled away and glanced down at the cheap retractable blade in Chris’s hand.  Yuuri stumbled, then struck Carmen’s signature pose with a hand on his hip, smiling out to the audience like nothing was wrong.  Then he crumpled into Chris’s arms.  His death scene was pretty understated compared to the rest of the production.  He let Chris try and stand him upright, but eventually he fell to the floor and played dead.

Seconds later and the curtain was closing.  Huffing out the breath he’d been holding, he took Chris’s offered hand and ran off stage.

 

~

 

“A toast!” Yakov hollered.  He was standing on an old suitcase at the center of the greenroom, a glass of champagne in his raised hand.  It was probably the first time Yuuria had ever seen a genuine smile on Yakov’s face.  It was…unnerving.  “To a fantastic opening night!  Thank you all for behaving yourselves and opening strong!”  He nodded for the others to raise their glasses, and then everyone with a glass drank.

“Yuuri!” Viktor pouted, “Where’s your drink?”

“Oh, I try not to drink often,” he replied.  He didn’t want to think of all the nights he’d blacked out with Phichit.  He’d had enough of that back in college, thank you very much.

“Nonsense!” cried Mila from behind them.  “Celebrate with us!  We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Ah, really, I shouldn’t,” he said as he held his hands up in front of him.  That was a mistake.  Mila forced him to take the flute she’d been holding.  It was a rather generous pour, but probably not enough to get him tipsy.  He sighed, but figured there wasn’t any other way to get them to leave him alone.  It was good champagne, he noted as he took a small sip.  Not that he had drunk that much champagne back in Detroit, or even back home in Hasetsu, but it definitely wasn’t offensive, and the bubbles didn’t make his nose hurt like carbonation usually did.  So it was good.

 

Viktor, for his part, was already stepping over to Lilia to see if she’d pour him another glass. Yuuri watched as she did.  Huh.  She was smiling too.  Not the usual sly smile she saved for when she thought no one could see, but a real, genuine smile.  She and Viktor exchanged a few words, and laughed.

“That being said!” Yakov’s voice rose above the chattering of the forty three dancers all crammed into the room.  “We have a matinee tomorrow and I don’t need any hung over ballerinas.  So enjoy wisely, you hear?”

Yuuri noticed Luboy roll her eyes and throw her flute of champagne back with stunning speed.  In fact, as he looked around, the majority of the ballerinas were doing the same.

“Oh, you’re not done with your first glass yet?” Viktor asked as he returned.

“Why would I be finished?  I just got it.”

Viktor shrugged, then gulped down his second glass just as quickly as his first.  Yuuri would have run his hand down his face if he wasn’t still made up.  Instead he just sighed, and sipped some more of his own champagne.  Lilia joined them a moment later, Yurio’s shoulder in her bony grip.  Yuuri did a double take at the glass in Yurio’s hand, but no one else seemed too upset about it, so he didn’t say anything.

 

“Yuuri.  You did quite well tonight,” Lilia said.

“Didn’t he?  The pas was practically flawless!”  Viktor wrapped an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, and Yuuri had to focus on his glass to keep from pulling away instinctually.  Yurio snorted.

“His posture fell a few times during turns, but he recovered quite well.  You did triples instead of quads on some of the turns, didn’t you?”

“Uh, yes,” Yuuri nodded.  “Sorry, I just wanted to make them clean.  For the performance.”

“That was a good choice.  But don’t be afraid to push yourself.  And you, Viktor.  I heard a few rumors that you might be leaving us for the…Yuri, what was that drag queen’s name again?”

“Ru Paul.”

“Right, the Ru Paul’s Drag Show?”

“Race.  Drag Race,” Yuuri corrected.

“Yes, that.”

“Just because Yura is jealous that he can’t vogue as well as I can—”

“Like I’d even want to!”

Yuuri leaned into Viktor’s side to stifle his laughter as they began speaking over each other.

“Regardless,” Lilia held up a finger, “distracting each other while off stage is dangerous, and if this were any other night, I’d discipline you soundly.”

Viktor chuckled.  “Lilia, you act as though you never messed around backstage.”

“Gross,” Yurio huffed.

“Do as she says and not as she does,” Yuuri said with a grin.

“Oh, I like that,” she smiled.  Yuuri supposed he would have to get used to that…her smiling so openly.  “Is that a Japanese phrase?”

“American, actually.”

“I guess the Americans did some good after all.”

“Oh, please.  Like Leo isn’t your favorite,” Yuiro said.  He took a hefty gulp of champagne.

“Actually, Guang Hong is my favorite, but I suppose Leo is a close second.”

 

Mila gave an evil laugh at the comment and grabbed Yurio around the shoulders.  It looked like she was going to start rubbing his head to mess up his hair, but realized her other hand had a glass in it.  Instead she just nuzzled him.  She reminded Yuuri a little bit of Mari in that moment.

“Don’t worry, Yura, you’re still _my_ favorite!”

“Okay, we _all_ know that’s a fuckin’ lie.  Sara’s your favorite and she doesn’t even dance here.”

Mila winked and stuck her tongue out.  “What can I say?  She’s cuter than you by a long shot.”

“Lilia, can I have another?”

“You’re a light weight Vitya.  You’ve had enough.

“Li-li-a!” he whined.  Yuuri silenced another giggle into Viktor’s side.

Lilia pursued her lips and glared at Viktor.

“Let him drink himself stupid,” Yurio muttered into his own flute.  “Maybe he’ll be less stupid.”

“Oh no, he just gets clingier,” Yuuri grinned.  Suddenly all eyes were on him.

“No, no.  I don’t want to know,” said Yurio.

“I mean I’m not surprised you know what he’s like drunk, but he’s usually not that clingy, is he?” Mila asked Lilia.

“More like louder.  More dramatic.  I suppose clingy wouldn’t be too out of the question.”

“If you want I can be clingy when I’m sober too,” Viktor said.

God, Yuuri wanted to throw Viktor’s arm off from around his shoulders, and possibly punch him in the stomach!  He’d had enough of Viktor teasing him.  He’d had enough

“God, please, no—”

“Ah, Yurio, one day you’ll understand wanting to hold on to someone!”

“Shut up!  You’re already touchy-feely enough!  Even now!  God, it’s like watching my parents making out.”  As if to emphasize his disgust, he stuck his tongue out and made some retching noises.

“Aw, our son is so cute isn’t he, Yuuri?

Viktor pulled Yuuri further into his side, and Yuuri jumped.  When he looked up at Viktor, he had a rather strange look on his face.  On one hand, Viktor looked like his normal playful self.  His bangs had fallen back in front of his eye again, and he had his usual sly smile in place.

On the other hand, he looked…uncertain.  There was something in his eyes that told Yuuri he was not sure of something.  Maybe it was the wrinkle between his eyebrows, or the strain in his smile.  He leaned towards Yuuri and for a moment, Yuuri thought Viktor might kiss him.

 

“Yuuri!” Kenjirou cried.  Yuuri jumped away.

“Unbelievable!” Yurio muttered under his breath.

“So they _aren’t_ together yet,” Mila said.

“You were so good!  Your fouetté’s were so beautiful!  Almost as beautiful as you!”  Kenjirou spoke in Japanese.  He wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s waist.

“Oh, geez,” Yuuri gasped.  “Kenjirou, are you alright?”

“I’m a little tipsy!  I love you!”

“Ken-chan,” Yuuri sighed, “You’re going to get makeup all over my costume if you keep that up.”

“Sorry!  I really like you!  I really really like you!”

“I like you too, Ken-chan.”

“You called me Ken-chan!  Call me Ken-chan all the time!”  He shoved his face back into Yuuri’s chest.

Yuuri cursed in Japanese and attempted to prompt Kenjirou off of him.

“Kenjirou,” Viktor said, “You need to stop that.”

“If you don’t get your face of that costume right now, Mr. Minami, I will have your head and feet on a platter before the next performance,” Lilia glowered.

Viktor unlatched Kenjirou’s arms from around Yuuri’s waist.  He was obviously much less amused than he was just moments ago, but maybe Yuuri had been imagining things.  In fact he was probably imagining the jealousy in Viktor’s tone too.

 

“How much have you had to drink?” Mila asked him.

“Yonhai!”

When Mila and Lilia looked to Yuuri, he sighed and translated.  “Four.  He’s had four glasses.”

“Someone get this kid some water.”

“He’s older than you, Yurio.”

“Yeah, and he can’t take his liquour.”

“Hey, sorry about him!” Leo wove his way through the crowd around them.  He took Kenjirou out of Viktor’s arms.  “Guang Hong and I have already called a cab.  We’re heading back to the dorms.  You wanna come with us, Yuri?”

“Already?” Mila asked.

“We’re tired.  And that matinee isn’t getting any later.”

“I’ll drop Yurio off at the dorms a little later, right?”

Yurio nodded.

“Alright, well, good night you guys!  Great job!”

Guang Hong poked his head into the conversation as well to tell everyone to get home safe, and then all three of them were gone.

“I might need to go early too.”  Yuuri gave his half-empty glass to Viktor as he said it.  Viktor glanced from the glass to Yuuri, then finished of the liquor in a quick gulp.  Yuuri could feel Lilia glaring holes into the side of his head.

“Let me walk you out?” Viktor asked.  He placed his empty glasses on a side table and accompanied Yuuri towards the greenroom door.  Yuuri followed without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [chasse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjFbdeKL7lw)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry

“So we’re heading towards England then?” Yuuri asked.

“Yup!  A week in France, a week in Spain, then two in England!  Have you ever been to London?” Viktor responded.

“Once with the Detroit Company.  I didn’t have much time off though.”

For whatever reason, Viktor had insisted on sitting next to Yuuri on the plane out of Moscow.  The last four weeks had been intermittently boring and unbelievably chaotic, as was usual with performances.  Each show ran into the next one in Yuuri’s mind. 

During one performance, J.J. had tripped and fallen though.  Luckily Yuuri and Viktor had been offstage at that point, so they could muffle their laughs in their hands.  During another performance, Georgi’s head piece had fallen off, and every dancer that passed by it attempted to kick it off stage.  It was like watching the most dramatic, seductive game of soccer ever played.  And then there was the one where Diya and Amelia had run into each other during the fight scene and Chris and Yuuri had almost missed their marks because they were avoiding the collision. 

Four weeks of performing in Russia.  And the season wasn’t even half over yet.  The reviews had been overwhelmingly positive, the only ones that said the ballet wasn’t worth seeing were the ones that disliked modern productions anyway, and Viktor hadn’t even bothered reading those past the first sentence.  All the critics wanted to know who K. Yuuri was.  A Google search didn’t yield much, considering the number of people sharing his given name, and he wasn’t famous enough to have a Wikipedia page.  Lilia was a genius.  Every review mentioned K.’s feminine charm and graceful movements.  Not a single one even suggested that Carmen was anything but a ballerina.  Yuuri had almost felt smug about it.

“We’ll have to go sightseeing then!”

“Will we even have time?”  Yuuri fiddled with his headphones.  They were flying coach, much to Viktor’s displeasure.  Yuuri didn’t know if Viktor was expecting them to talk the entire four-hour flight or if he was just waiting for them to get into the sky to pass out.

“We should.  Yakov is pretty good about giving us time off when we travel.”

“I’ll bet you and Chris are excited to show off your French skills.”

“ _Bien sûr, mon chou._ ”

Yuuri stared blankly at him, expecting for a translation.  What he got was a chuckle and more French.  “Okay, time for bed,” he sighed.  He closed the window, sat back against his chair, and snuggled into his neck pillow,

“Wait, no! I’m sorry!” Viktor whined.  “I’ll speak English!”

“Only if you promise to translate for me in France.”

“That was the plan.  It’s not like Yakov can speak French.”

“Does anyone speak Spanish?”

“Hmm.  I don’t actually know.  I feel like maybe Marina does.”  Viktor pulled the airline safety card out of the pouch on the back of the chair in front of him.  “Most hospitality workers speak English, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Have you been to Spain before?”

“A few times.  It’s not a usual tour location for us, but I think we were in Madrid for Mid Summer’s and Rodeo.”

Yuuri suppressed a shudder.  “So we'll be in England for your birthday, then?”

“Oh.  Yes.  I’d almost forgotten about that.”

“I’ll have to get you something nice, then,” Yuuri smiled.  He closed his eyes.

“When is your birthday?”

“Hmm?”

“Well, you haven’t mentioned it,” Viktor said with a swallow.  For whatever reason, he looked nervous.

“November twenty-ninth.”

“What?!”

Yuuri shrugged.  He hadn’t said anything because he didn’t feel like it was that big of a deal.  Plus, it wasn’t like twenty-four was some kind of milestone or anything.  He’d been so busy about run-throughs and costume fittings and after-rehearsal practices.

“Why didn’t you say anything!”

“Didn’t seem important.”

“So are you twenty-three now?  Twenty-four?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Ah, we’ll have to do something nice.  Oh, I know!  I’ll take you out to dinner.”

Yuuri glanced at Viktor, but didn’t see anything in his smile to suggest it was a joke.

“That’s okay.  Really, you don’t need to worry about it.”

“But I want to take you out!”

Yuuri’s hands balled up against his attempts to keep them flat on his lap.  He knew that Viktor liked him well enough.  He just didn’t know _how_ Viktor liked him.  He was certain Viktor considered him a friend, since he seemed to want to spend copious amounts of time with Yuuri.  But whether there was attraction that ran deeper than that, if there was a romantic attraction or sexual undertones to Viktor’s advances, Yuuri couldn’t tell.  There had been a few times that Yuuri worried that maybe Viktor only thought of him as a quick lay, to be cast off after a night or two, but he never made any move to invite Yuuri over for “coffee”, and then why would he want to sleep with Yuuri anyway?  It’s not like he was hot enough to be a satisfying one-night stand.

And then he said things like this!  ‘I want to take you out!’  _God_ , what the hell.

Yuuri tried to glance out the window, but cursed himself for closing it earlier.  “Okay.  But if you try to take me somewhere expensive, I won’t go.”

“Aww, why not?”

Yuuri gave him another pointed look.  “I don’t need to be spoiled.”  In his head, he reminded himself over and over again, ‘It’s not a date, don’t get your hopes up.  It’s not a date, don’t get your hopes—‘

“It’s a date!”

“A-A date?!”

Viktor drew his eyebrows together.  “Is that not an expression in English?”

“Uh, no it is!  It is.”

“Then yeah, a date!”

“Okay.” 

Luckily for Yuuri, the captain’s voice crackled over the speakers, explaining the obligatory safety proceedures.  He definitely didn’t give Viktor a nervous glance before turning away and closing his eyes.  Except he definitely did.

~

Their week in France was quiet.  The company went to the Eiffel Tower as a group and took more pictures than was entirely necessary.  After that they had a day to sightsee on their own, so Yuuri went to the Louvre.  Chris and Viktor tagged along to translate for him, even though they all knew there were English and Japanese audio tours.  Yuuri realized about ten minutes in, it was really an excuse for them to make snide comments about the various paintings and sculptures.  Chris kept saying things like, “Oh joy, another bowl of fruit.”  And Viktor was on the hunt for any painting of the one saint holding her own breasts on a platter.  Needless to say, Yuuri was surprised they didn’t get kicked out for making too much noise. 

All three of them shared a hostel room with Georgi, J.J., and Otabek.  And _that_ was an experience.  Throughout the night, Yuuri learned that J.J. was conversational in French, that Georgi’s relationship with Anya had been on-again-off-again for the better part of two years, and that Otabek had extremely precise aim.  When they woke up the next morning for class and stage rehearsal at the Opéra Bastille, it was a bit of a whirlwind.  Unsurprisingly, having six men trying to use one bathroom at eight in the morning led to some petty squabbling.  On the bright side, Yuuri got to watch Viktor shave.  That had been strangely captivating to watch.

But then it was hour after hour of rehearsal, then hour after hour of performing.  Viktor still did Yuuri’s make up for him, even though Georgi offered several times to help.  All in all, their performances in France were uneventful.  Yuuri didn’t change too much about his performance.  It had worked in Russia, so why not France?  Viktor, on the other hand, liked surprising him on stage.  Sometimes it was extra touches, or keeping Yuuri wrapped in his arms just a count or two too long.  Then there was a show where Viktor almost missed a lighting cue, because he’d chased after Yuuri during the trial scene.  That had pissed Yakov off to no end.

~

Spain wasn’t much different from Fance, in Yuuri’s opinion.  That was probably unfair.  It was very different, but aside from the museum tours and cathedral visits and the language, Yuuri didn’t see much of the differences.  It turned out Marina _did_ speak Spanish, as did Mila, much to Viktor and Yuuri’s surprise.  She’d shrugged, saying, “It’s not that different from Italian, so I know a little.”

The Teatro Real was probably one of the nicest theatres Yuuri had ever been in with all its gold and red embellishments.  For whatever reason, Carmen felt at home in Spain.  Yuuri rolled his eyes when the thought struck him during their second performance.  Of course it felt at home, the story was set in Spain!  Regardless, it made Yuuri change a few things in his performance.

On their charity performance on Thursday night, Yuuri held onto Viktor by throwing his arms around the back of Viktor’s neck.  Viktor’s eyebrows had risen, but he hadn’t whispered any complaints.  Instead, he’d wrapped an arm around Yuuri’s waist and dragged him around the stage, ending their embrace in chaînés turns and flourishing hand movements.  Lilia noted that their improvisation made it look like Escamillo and Carmen were hopelessly in love, like they were desperate.  So on Friday Yuuri played harder to get.  Instead of throwing his arms around Viktor, he’d playfully bourrée away, or blow a kiss, or leave just a breath of space between his and Viktor’s lips before pulling away with a smirk.

That night Viktor didn’t hang off of Yuuri like he usually did.  It was almost like every time Yuuri caught his eye, he would make it a point to walk away.  Before Yuuri could ask what was wrong, Yakov had pulled him aside.

“Yuuri, that was the best you’ve performed so far.  Your fouetté’s were perfect.  Your footwork was impeccable as usual.  There are people who want to meet you.”

“Wh-what?”

“The Manager of the Madrid Ballet is here.  He told me he wants to audition you for next season.”

“W-well—”

“Don’t worry, I already turned him down for you.  But he wants to talk to you.”

“Does he know?”

“No.  If you don’t think you can do it, I’ll tell him no.”

Yuuri rubbed his forehead.  It was all well and good to be a man who looked like a girl, but if he had to talk… his voice wasn’t high pitched enough, was it?

“Just give me a minute.”

“You don’t have to,” Yakov coughed.  Wow, he actually looked nervous.  “But if you did, it would be a good connection for you to have.  For the company to have.  The Madrid Company has been very successful over the last few seasons.”

“Yeah.  Uh, Yeah.”  Yuuri cleared his throat.  “Do I need to pretend to be a girl, do you think?”

“I don’t know.  The Spanish seem much less concerned about that kind of thing, but if word gets out, there might be issues back home.”

“Right.”  Yuuri bit his lower lip.  Yakov was right.  Connections were important in the ballet world.  He was no idiot.  He’d probably only managed to get into the preliminary auditions for the Russian Prix Company due to his connection to Celestino.  But the risk…he could pretend to be a girl, fail, and then everyone would know.  He could pretend, succeed, and then the manager would call up K. Yuuri expecting a girl and end up with more testosterone than he bargained for.  Or he could go in without pretending and hope for the best.  He didn’t like his chances.

“Yuuri, you should do it,” Viktor’s voice sounded from behind him.  He was standing a few feet away from Yuuri, and his face was carefully blank.  “You have a place in the Prix for another season and any season after that, but should you decide to leave after spring, you’ll need connections.”

Yuuri’s jaw dropped.  He hadn’t…he hadn’t considered leaving after spring.  Why would Viktor even suggest it? He glanced at Yakov who was leveling Viktor a very intense look. 

“Okay.”

Now Yakov was giving _him_ a look.

“I’ll see how it goes.  With the manager, I mean.”

Viktor nodded, then turned and disappeared down the dark hall.

“Yuuri,” Yakov sighed.  “Yuuri, I don’t know what is going through Vitya’s head right now, but you should only meet with Senor Ortega if you want to.”

“No, I want to.  You’re right.  This business is all about connections, after all!” he laughed weakly.

“Okay.  Can you meet him in the costume room?”

“Yeah.”

So Yuuri did.

Senor Ortega was a tall man with dark hair and a charming voice.  He seemed to be the exact opposite of Yuuri with his laidback smile and easy laughs.  Yakov did most of the talking, thank God.  Senor Ortega asked him very simple questions about how long he’d been dancing, why he’d left Detroit, what his plans for next year were… Yuuri smiled and answered in as few words as possible, keeping his voice low.  Yakov cut their talk short when Senor Ortega began gushing about the Madrid Ballet’s plans and when the auditions were.  And then Yuuri was alone in the costume room again.  He took a deep breath, then went to go get changed.

~

It was their last day in Spain When Viktor showed up at Yuuri’s hostel door and said, “Let’s grab an early dinner for your birthday!”

Yuuri had to blink in confusion at that.  Yuuri thought Viktor was still avoiding him.  Their performance on Saturday had been good, but even little Yuri had noticed something wrong.  He’d made snide comments the whole night about Viktor being an idiot and Yuuri not being much smarter.

“Okay.”  He glanced back in the room, where J.J. was still trying to explain Game of Thrones to Otabek, who looked like he wanted to die.  Then again, Otabek always kind of looked like he was three seconds from hoping off a bridge, in Yuuri’s opinion.  “I’m going to get food with Viktor.  Do you want anything?”

“I don’t care who you are, if you can’t accept that the Lannister house is the best, you’re a liar an—”

“We’ll be fine,” Otabek answered.  “Have fun.  Be back before six.”

Otabek sounded like a strange combination of concerned mother and gruff father.  Yuuri almost laughed.

Most places weren’t serving dinner yet, for whatever reason.  Viktor mentioned that he was hungry anyway, since his body was still on Moscow time.  Yuuri just nodded and tried his best to read the menu at the small restaurant they’d chosen.  It was crammed right between a computer shop and a pasteleria, and Yuuri could just see La Plaza Mayor.

“We went to the Reina Sofia together, but how did you like the Palace?”

“Huh?”

“The Palace, Yuuri.  How did you like the Palace?”

“Oh, it was fine.”

“Just fine?  Not breathtaking?  Or un- _Real_?”

“Oh my god.”

“Hah?”

Yuuri couldn’t help but chuckle at Viktor’s self-satisfaction.

“That was the worst pun I’ve ever heard.”

“It was funny, you’re laughing!”

“I’m laughing at _you_ , not the joke!”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

“ _Bebidas, señores?_ ” their waitress asked.

“Maybe we should have brought someone along to translate,” Viktor laughed.  They managed to get by with pointing at the things they wanted on the menu.

“Well, if you’re really interested, the Palace was beautiful.  Just a little too opulent for my tastes.”

“Opulent…opulent…what does that one mean again?”

“Uh, rich.  Decorated.  Think Winter Palace, but warmer.”

“I see.  I’ve never been to Japan, but I’m assuming the palaces there are less decorated?”

“I mean not really.  They’re just decorated differently.  More large wall paintings.  Expensive wood.  Not so much…” he wiggled his fingers over the table “blegh.  All I could think about was, ‘God, how did anyone dust in here with all those chandeliers and wall mountings?’”

Viktor laughed.  Their waitress put a short glass of Rebujito in front of Viktor.  Yuuri thanked her for the water as best he could, and pointed to the meal he wanted to order.

“You do know they serve fish whole here, right?” Viktor asked.  Yuuri shrugged.

“They do that in Japan too, sometimes.  Not a big deal.”

They fell into what should have been an easy silence.  Yuuri wanted it to be easy.  They’d shared easy silences before, back in Russia.  They’d gone grocery shopping together, eaten quiet meals together, warmed up for rehearsal together.  But Yuuri couldn’t help squirming.

After a moment, Viktor asked, “Is something wrong?”

“M-maybe?  I don’t know.”

“Okay.”  Viktor actually looked concerned.  Yuuri licked his lips.

“You can’t get mad.”

“Why would I get mad?”

“I-I thought you _were_ mad.  At me, I mean.  I don’t know.  I thought— I don’t know, that you didn’t want to—”

“Yuuri, Yuuri, slow down.  Why would I be upset with you?”

“I don’t know!  That’s…You were avoiding me, and then there was the thing with the Madrid Company, and I thought you were mad.”  Yuuri had both his hands in his lap and he could feel himself hunching over, trying to hide himself.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, almost sweetly.  Yuuri wanted to look up, but he was too uncomfortable to do it.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to avoid you.  You just surprised me on Friday, is all.”  He must have seen Yuuri trying to make sense of his words and failing, because he kept talking.  “I, uh, I wasn’t expecting you to change the choreography so much, and I was a little intimidated, I think.”

“Intimidated?”

“You may not realize this, Yuuri, but you are quite a force on stage.  I should have said something.  Why do you think Señor Ortega wanted to speak with you?”

“Why did you want me to speak with him?”  Yuuri finally looked up, and found Viktor’s face somewhat contorted.  It was strange, seeing Viktor so caught off guard.

“I realized that it would be selfish of me to keep you here.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yuuri…”

“Viktor, what aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m thinking of retiring.”

“What?!”

“Maybe not this year, maybe not next year, but soon.  I’m not exactly twenty-four,” he joked.  “I wanted to direct the company this year to see if it was something I could transition into.  Take over for Yakov, but I realized I hate it.  But I realized that there’s not much else for me to do.”

“So you want to send me away and retire?  Forgive me if I don’t quite understand how those two things are connected.”

“Send you away?  I would never send you away, Yuuri.  I’m just saying that Russia is…Russia is dangerous for people like us sometimes.  Yakov is good to us, but you could achieve so much out here!”  He gestured to the restaurant around them.  “The Madrid Ballet is known for doing contemporary interpretations of ballets.  They specialize in modern choreography.  It could be a huge chance for you.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor whined.  He laid his head on the table and groaned.  “I’m not good at this talking thing.”

“Are you trying to say you think you’re holding me back?”

“Yes! That’s it!  I don’t want to hold you back from a company that can celebrate you as _you_!  Not as K. Yuuri, not as Carmen.  You.”

Yuuri gaped at him.  He pushed his glasses up his nose when they threatened to slip of his face.  “Viktor, you’re an idiot.”

“Huh?”

“Listen, if I wanted to be part of a company where I could really be celebrated as me, I’d join the Trockaderos.”

“I—”

“Shut up.  Listen.  I auditioned for the Russian Prix Company because it was the best.  Because it had the best danseur in the world in it.  I joined because I’ve looked up to you since I was a kid.  And in case you hadn’t noticed, Viktor, I _am_ me when I perform.  This has been the best season of my life, and I don’t think I’d say anything different if I were playing Escamillo.  You’re the reason I auditioned, and you’re one of the reasons I stayed, but don’t you dare think that you can singlehandedly protect me from the world.”

Viktor blinked at him.

“I haven’t thought about next year, yet.  I had assumed I would be staying here, with you.  With Yakov and Lilia and Yuri and everyone else.  If I wanted to leave, I would.  But right now, I’m having too much fun to even think about it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“ _Sus platos, señores,_ ” their waitress grinned.  She was gone as soon as the plates were down.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri.”

“Don’t be sorry.  Just eat your paella.”

“Okay.”

~

Yuuri was going to prove it to Viktor.  He was going to go out, and absolutely _destroy_ Viktor Nikiforov.  What the hell had he been thinking?  Holding Yuuri back?  Maybe Yuri was right, he thought as he prepped for his fight scene entrance.  Maybe Viktor was a “fucking idiot.”  It didn’t matter.  Yuuri was going to make sure Viktor would never have such stupid thoughts again.

Five, six, seven, eight…

~

Yuuri Katsuki was going to be the death of him.  Right on the death certificate, where it said “cause of death,” he was going to make sure the medics wrote Yuuri Katsuki.  Because this was too much for Viktor’s small gay heart.

Yuuri fucking Katsuki was changing choreography like he was getting paid for it, and honestly, Viktor had never been more turned on in his life.  They were in the middle of their pas, and Viktor had no idea what Yuuri was going to do next.  Some of the choreography was the same, like that lame duck and that grand jeté, but the hands on Viktor’s chest and the hip shaking, and the _grinding_ were definitely not things Viktor had choreographed.  Yuuri had turned in Viktor’s arms several times to press his ass, _his perfect ass_ , against Viktor’s crotch, and holy shit, how he managed to keep that looking balletic was…Viktor had no words.  No words for Yuuri today.

The thing was, when Yuuri had asked why Viktor had avoided him the last few days, Viktor has sort of lied.  Of course Viktor had been surprised by Yuuri’s sudden changes.  He’d stuck with the choreography for five weeks.  They get to Spain and suddenly he’s changing things up.  Mostly during his partnering sections with Viktor.  So Viktor hadn’t really been intimidated so much as insanely turned on and very embarrassed.  Maybe telling Yuuri to seduce him had been a mistake?

Although it wasn’t as though the choreographed touches turned Viktor on any less.  It was just…he knew they were coming; he had time to prepare.  But whatever had gotten into Yuuri during this weekend was too unpredictable.  His hands shook as he gripped Yuuri’s hips for some pirouettes.  When he landed, he slipped his arms around Viktor’s neck.  That was normal.  That was planned for.  What was not planned for was Yuuri sliding his nose up the side of Viktor’s neck and nipping at his ear.

Jesus Christ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bien sûr, mon chou- means of course, my chou; chou is a pastry cream and supposed used as a pet name in French.  
> A pasteleria is a cake/pastry shop.  
> The word for royal is Real in Spanish, so Viktor is making a terrible, terrible pun when he's asking about the palace.  
> The waitress literally just asks for their drink order and then presents them with their dishes. It's been three years since I've spoken any respectable amount of Spanish, so please correct me if I have mistranslated anything.
> 
> I will add the links soon I promise!!  
> Also please remember that you can find updates, extras, and me rambling on the tumblr tag #yoifondue!! And please feel free to come scream at me for my terrible life and writing choices lmao


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhHHhhHh sorry this chapter is so late, but as college students say, it's not tomorrow until I wake up lmao. Also this chapter is a little shorter than usual, but it's important and now things will ACTUALLY start heading towards romance. Sorry for the slow burn lmaooo Also! Thank you to all the wonderful readers who left comments on the last few chapters! I have been really bad about replying again, but Elena and I read every single one, and it gives me a lot of motivation to keep writing!!!
> 
> Also, bad news, I'm not going to be updating next week. I have two really important papers due soon and I haven't started them lol so the next update will be on the 21st. So sorry, but work's gotta get done first :(

“I don’t know what the hell you and Viktor were thinking, Fatass, but keep it 12+, huh?”

“I, uh, yeah, sorry!”

Yuri had him up against a brick wall, an accusatory finger pointed at him.  Yuuri tried to placate him with stuttering and bashful looks.  Was he really intimidated by little Yuri?  Well, maybe a little.  But he was definitely playing it up.  The real question was whether or not Yuuri really regretted his actions on stage.  On one hand, that was probably the most embarrassing thing he’d ever done.  Even more embarrassing than explaining to Celestino how he’d sprained his ankle.  On the other hand, the look on Viktor’s face had been priceless.  And the audience had given almost ten minutes of applause, which was borderline ridiculous.  Yakov had waved that off, saying, “Oh, back in my day, the Russian audiences would applaud for half an hour _minimum_.”  But Yuuri could tell that he was excited to greet all the high profile guests and retired dancers who approached him as they left the theater.

“We still have two whole countries left, so keep it together!”

And with a final supposedly intimidating grunt, Yuri left him there.  Yuuri let out a heavy breath and ran a hand over his slicked-back hair.  He needed to get these shoes off his feet as soon as possible.  He could feel one of his toenails digging into its neighbor toe in his right shoe, and he couldn’t feel anything but fire in the left.  He waddled back into the greenroom, then into the dressing room.  Surprisingly, the dressing room was mostly empty, aside from the mess of bags and costume pieces thrown about the counters.  Yuuri cleared out a space between two sinks and hopped up to sit.  He actually had to lean back and let out a grateful sigh.  God, it felt so good to be off his feet.  Why had he wanted to dance en pointe again?

 

He opened his eyes when he heard the door opening.  Viktor stood, looking like he was frozen for a moment.  Then once they’d held eyecontact for an uncomfortable length of time, he made a bee-line for Yuuri and slammed his hands down on either side of Yuuri’s hips.

“Never do that again.”

Oh God.  Yuuri hadn’t been worried about Viktor’s reaction.  At least not past surprising him on stage.  Oh, God, he was probably so upset about Yuuri changing the choreography!  He was probably embarrassed having to be on the same stage as Yuuri, too.  God, he was so stupid!  Fucking idiot!

“Do you understand me?  Never again.”

Yuuri could feel his eyes widening, and he was trying to nod, but he was stunned.  Viktor looked beyond furious, his usual smile replaced with a thin line and clenched jaw.

“Do you have any idea how quickly I had to run off stage?”

What?  Yuuri was on the brink of tears now.  He could feel ice crawling up the back of his throat and the shuddering breaths that accompanied his panic attacks creeping up on him.

The angry crease between Viktor’s brows softened for a moment.

“Yuuri, that was probably the most embarrassing performance I’ve ever given, and Yakov has already threatened a chastity belt. You can’t…you can’t do that to me on-stage.”

Well, if his makeup hadn’t been running before, it definitely was now.  The first few tears laid the tracks for the next few, and then the hyperventilation began.

“Yuuri?  Yuuri?!”

“I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!  I was just—”

“Yuuri, why are you crying?  What’s wrong?!”

“I didn’t think-I’m so sorry, I ruined it, I ruined…”

“What are you talking about?  Breathe!”

“You hate me, don’t you?” he managed to get out.  “I didn’t mean—”

“Why on earth would I hate you?!”  Viktor’s hands were up now floating over Yuuri, almost like he wanted to touch him, but didn’t know how.

“You’re mad!  You’re yelling at me!”  
“I’m not mad at you!  Yuuri!  Look at me, I’m not mad at you, okay?”

Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

“I’m mad because I had to run offstage four times to readjust my dance belt.”  Viktor almost looked bashful.  Wait, what had he just said?  “You can’t pull that shit on stage again, or I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep performing.  I’m just glad _you_ were so calm and composed that the audience barely even noticed me.”

He still looked mad.  His eyes kept darting around from Yuuri’s face, to the counter, to the mirror behind Yuuri’s back.

“I-I don’t understand,” Yuuri finally managed to squeak out.

“Is it really that hard to figure out?  I thought I’d been obvious.”  Yuuri didn’t say anything, so Viktor sighed.  “Yuuri, I have been flirting with you since you showed up on the first day of rehearsals.”

“What?”

Suddenly Viktor looked bashful.  “I guess I wasn’t clear enough.  Let me try again.  You are the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold on to.  I don’t know what to call the feeling, but I want to pursue it.  I think it might be love.”

Yuuri looked at him, trying to process the words.  “Are you making fun of me?”

Viktor’s head dropped.  It took a moment, but when he finally managed to lift his eyes to make weak eye contact again, he lifted one of his hands to hesitantly brush fingers against Yuuri’s cheek.

“I would never joke about something like this Yuuri.  I didn’t mean to scare you like this.  I’m just…frustrated.  Embarrassed.  I don’t know how these things are supposed to go.”

Yuuri tried to take a deep breath.  He wanted to simultaneously bat Viktor’s hand away and lean into the touch.  “Don’t look at me.  My makeup’s running,” he finally managed to sob out.  He could practically feel the thick eyeliner running work his cheeks.

“Oh, Yuuri.”  Viktor leaned to the side and began rifling through bags.  He managed to pull out a makeup wipe, and began rubbing Yuuri’s cheeks.  “Can I look at you now?” he asked after a few more moments of scrubbing.

“No.”

“Can I ever look at you?”

Yuuri was able to stop the shaking in his hands, but he still couldn’t breathe right.  “Are you serious?  About the…the flirting?  And the holding on?”

“Why do you think everyone thinks we’re sleeping together?  I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

“That’s not hard to believe,” Yuuri joked.

Viktor gasped.  “You wound me!  I am a very serious person!”  He smiled when Yuuri actually choked out a laugh.  “You’re still in pointe shoes,” he finally noticed.  “I’m so sorry, let’s get you out of those.”

“Viktor, wait I can—“

Viktor gave him a sharp look, Yuuri’s right foot in his hand.  “As an apology.  Let me.”

Strangely enough, watching Viktor’s fingers dance around the ribbons and untie the knots was methodic enough to calm Yuuri down a little.  Viktor turned Yuuri’s foot over in his hand a bit, tutting at the various cracks in his toenails, the bandaids and blisters.  Then he unwound the medical tape around Yuuri’s last two toes.  He had placed the shoe in Yuuri’s lap, so Yuuri pulled out the toe pad and flipped it inside out.

“Can you grab the wood shavings out of my bag?” he asked quietly.

Viktor did so without a word, handing him two cotton bags full of cedar shavings.  As Yuuri stuffed one in his shoe.  Viktor bent down to untie the other shoe, then handed it to Yuuri for the same treatment.  Viktor took both Yuuri’s feet in his hands and pressed down on the second bone of Yuuri’s big toe.  They each popped within a half second of each other, and Yuuri let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank you,” he finally said evenly.  Viktor didn’t let go of him.

“Are you alright now?”

“I think so.”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you like that.  But I’m still upset with you.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?  Is that all you can say right now?”  There wasn’t any heat in the question, just curiousity.

“I’m not sure I understand why you’re upset.  Still processing.”  He took a quick glance in the mirror behind him and groaned.  “I’ve always been an ugly crier.”

“You’re not ugly.”

“I bet you don’t get blotchy when you cry,” he accused.  Viktor chuckled.

“I didn’t mean to scare you like that.  That was wrong.  I should have known better.  But I’m upset with you because I thought maybe you were teasing me onstage tonight.  But it turns out you are the most oblivious person on the planet.”  He reached up to touch Yuuri’s face again.

“Oh no,” Yuuri said, suddenly very assertive.  “That hand was just on my foot, do not touch me with it.”

“I’ve seen you eat popcorn off the company room floor!”

“Th-That’s different!”

Viktor laughed outright.  Yuuri could feel the heat of his blush rushing up his neck.  Viktor took the pointe shoes from Yuuri and plopped them on top of his bag.  On his way back to Yuuri, he stopped at a sink to wash his hands.

“Can I touch you now?”

“N-no thank you.”

“Okay.”  Well, Yuuri hadn’t expected for Viktor to take that rejection so well.

“Are you sure you’re not just making this all up?”  At that, he felt the familiar drop of his gut.

Viktor sighed again.  “If you’d let me, I’d kiss you right now.  But I won’t because I can tell you’re not interested.”

“Wait!  I never said I wasn’t interested!”  That certainly got Viktor’s attention.  “I’m just, I, uh.  You have to understand.  I’m not…I’ve looked up to you since your start in the Junior Company.  You’re so talented and even since becoming your apprentice, I just…”  He let out a long breath.  “This seems so unreal to me.  It’s too much like a bad romance novel.  Or a good dream,” he laughed.

“But you are interested?” Viktor had a hopeful gleam in his eyes.  It almost looked desperate.

Now Yuuri felt shy.  Maybe he shouldn’t say anything.  Maybe he shouldn’t, but...

“I have a friend.  Back in Japan.  Her name is Yuuko.  We used to practice your solos and pas de deux’s together.  I have a YouTube playlist of your most impressive performances.  It’s just so hard to believe that you’d even as much as look at me!”

“You’re doing that thing again.  That thing I don’t like.”

“Ah,” Yuuri bit his lip.

“I hate it when you joke about yourself like that.  You may not be a natural like I was Yuuri, but that’s what makes you amazing!  You fought for what you have.  And you’re…as much as you might deny it, I think you’re a better danseur than I am now.”

Yuuri gapped.  Well _that_ was a lie.  Yuuri grabbed Viktor’s wrists.  For a moment he had to marvel at how thin they were.  Viktor was taller and wider than Yuuri, but his wrists were so small.  That didn’t make any sense.  Maybe Yuuri’s hands were just big.

“Yuuri?”

God, Yuuri hated that.  He had to suppress a shudder at the way Viktor said his name.  He dropped Viktor’s wrists.  He was an idiot if he thought Yuuri wasn’t interested.  He just…he needed time.

“If-If I’m better than you, it’s only because you’ve been such a good teacher!”

Internally, Yuuri patted himself on the back.  Now Viktor was the blushing stuttering mess.  But with the next breath, Viktor was back to his normal self again.

“Yuu-ri!” he grinned.  “You’re too nice!  I’m not mad anymore!”

“Is a compliment all it takes?”

“Well, it’s not like it was really you’re fault,” Viktor said.  “You’re just oblivious.”

“That doesn’t really make me feel much better.”

“Well, if you’re not still upset with me for scaring you, we’ll call it even?”

“Now I feel like I’m getting scammed.”

Viktor pursed his lips and made the saddest face Yuuri had ever seen.  Oh God, it was like when he would accidently step on Vicchan’s paw when he was little, and he’d looked at Yuuri like maybe he’d been the one at fault somehow.

“I’m still upset,” Yuuri said, “b-but I suppose I could be persuaded.”   Yuuri decided not to mention Viktor had already started atoning when he pulled off the pointe shoes.

“With what?”  Viktor looked way too excited to make amends.

“Draw me a bath when we get back to the hostel.  I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to actually bathe like a real human.”

“Is that all?  Here I was hoping you’d ask for a second date!” Viktor laughed.  Then he stopped abruptly.

“ _Second_ date?”

“Or, well, first date, I guess,” Viktor rubbed the back of his head.

“Oh God.  Today.  When we got dinner, that was a…”  Yuuri cradled his head in his hands.  God, he was so stupid!  He hadn’t even made the connection when Viktor insisted on paying for him.

“Well, we technically weren’t dating, so I understand,” Viktor said, coyly.  “I mean not that we’re necessarily dating now, but I guess I just kind of hoped—”

“I’m so sorry, Viktor.”

“I already told you!  You didn’t know, I wasn’t clear enough!”

“The-the rehearsals, the ‘seduce me’ comments!  You were flirting with me!  Shit, I’m so dumb!”

“Yuuri, Yuuri!  It’s okay!  I should have been more straightforward about it.”

Yuuri scrubbed a hand down his face as he looked up at Viktor.  “I’m going to need time to think about this.  I am, uh, interested, please don’t think I’m not!  I just, I’m not used to people actually _wanting_ me.”

Viktor reached out to touch Yuuri’s face again, but stopped a few centimeters away, remembering Yuuri’s words from before.  Instead of flinching away like he might have a few minutes ago, Yuuri leaned forward, meeting Viktor’s hand where it waited.  He had to admit, Viktor’s thumb running over his cheek bone was more soothing than he’d expected.

 

The door creaked open and they both startled.

“Oh for the love of,” Yuri hissed out.  “Literally what did I _just_ tell you assholes?”  He stalked into the room, muttering the whole way, then snatched his bag off the counter and left.  He only slammed the door a little on his way out.

 

“So you got a talking to too, huh?”

“Yeah,” Viktor sighed.  “It’s just so hard to take him seriously though.”

“Maybe for you!” Yuuri giggled.  “Sometimes I think he might actually claw my eyes out.”

“Oh no, he wouldn’t get his hands dirty like that.  He’d get his cat to do it for him.”

“Comforting.”

Viktor smiled at him.  He still hadn’t removed his hand from Yuuri’s face.  “We had better get ready to leave, I guess.  Plane to catch tomorrow and all that.”

Yuuri agreed.  “Plus, I need to get back to the hostel.  I have a date with the bathtub.”

“Oh, so this is our second date?”

Yuuri opened his mouth to respond, but realized he’d put his foot in his mouth.

“Will you let me watch you bathe?”

“Viktor!”

“I’m kidding.”

“No you’re not!”

“Okay, I’m not.  Is that a yes or a no?”

“No!”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before!” he whined.  Yuuri glared at him.

“You’ll leave as soon as the water is in the tub.”

Viktor sighed.  “Yes, Dear.”

Yuuri couldn’t help squirm at the endearment.  It was weird.  Not bad, just weird.  Viktor finally retracted his hand.  Yuuri turned towards his bag on the counter, shoving all his things back in and zipping it up, acting like he and Viktor hadn’t just had the strangest, most emotional conversation in the history of ballet companies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and questions are always welcomed!  
> Come yell at me on tumblr [here](http://bastetcg.tumblr.com)  
> I track #yoifondue on tumblr too!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fluffy! Like, Disgustingly fluffy! But after this, things are gonna start getting raunchy, and the rating is gonna go up again! ;) So enjoy it while it lasts!

London was pretty much the same as it was the last few times Yuuri had visited.  Viktor had begged to visit more museums, much to Yuuri’s chagrin and amusement.

“Saint Agatha is an _icon_ ,” he’d insisted.  “Titties _off_ , you know?  An icon, Yuuri.”

Chris had gone with them, as had Yuri and Otabek.  Yuuri had tried not to be too disappointed about the company.  Other than that, they did their best to avoid bland food and tourist traps.

Yuuri reigned in his performance during their time in England.  Viktor didn’t say anything, but Yuuri could tell he was disappointed.  They hadn’t really discussed the whole…relationship thing since Spain.  Yuuri couldn’t help but squirm with anticipation and excitement every time Viktor touched him.  Every time Viktor had to pass behind him in the hostel bathroom, any time squeezed his shoulder, or rested a hand on his back, Yuuri could feel a flush rise up to his ears.  And now that he knew Viktor was interested, he couldn’t ignore it.  Viktor was an incorrigible flirt, Yuuri realized quickly.

 

At the National Gallery, Viktor had made pun after cheesy pun about breaking the rules and touching the art whenever he caught Yuuri’s hand.  There might have even been more ass-grabbing than was customary between dancers.

Then when they’d been touring the Tower of London, Viktor told Yuuri that if he was scared, Viktor would protect him.  Yuuri snorted at that and tried to explain that he came from a superstitious town in Japan, that’d he be fine.  Viktor had pouted at first, but as the tour went on, he began sticking closer and closer to Yuuri.

“What if Henry the Eighth gets jealous of my good looks and fertility and haunts me?”

“He didn’t even die here,” Yuuri had reminded him.  “And it doesn’t matter how fertile you are if you’re gay!”

Viktor had only responded by clutching Yuuri’s arm tighter and whining for Yuuri not to abandon him.

Besides sightseeing, Yuuri was trying to plan out his time back in America.  They’d be performing in New York, where Phichit was currently living.  He and Yuuri were trying to make sure their schedules would allow them some time together in the three weeks they’d be in town.  Luckily, Phichit’s company had just finished their winter season, so he had free time, but he had also scheduled a trip back to Thailand soon, so Yuuri’s last three days in the US would sadly be Phichit-free.  Viktor was constantly peaking over Yuuri’s shoulder as he texted, but it wasn’t an oppressive kind of curiosity.  Viktor was getting excited to meet Phichit, who he had been texting on and off since Yuuri’s audition almost five months ago.  Yuuri on the other hand, was trying to think up ways of keeping them from so much as looking at one another.  Both of them had way too much blackmail material for Yuuri to let them meet.

 

Viktor’s birthday fell on a Sunday, which meant the company celebrated quietly backstage during their matinee.  Lilia had bought a few trays of cupcakes and reminded everyone to eat them _before_ getting into costume.  Yuuri gave his most lack-luster performance of the season that afternoon, he was so nervous about his present.  Immediately after final bows and the close of the show, Yuuri found Viktor in the dressing room.

“I’m taking you out for dinner.”

“Huh?”

“For your birthday.  We’re going out.”  Yuuri congratulated himself on keeping his voice from trembling as he said it.  Viktor seemed taken back, but then he broke into a grin.

“Okay!  Let’s get out of costume and head out then!”

Chris wolf whistled at them, which didn’t exactly help with Yuuri’s confidence.

“Can’t you two be gross in love somewhere else?” Yurio groaned.

“Jealousy doesn’t become you, Yura,” chided Viktor.

“The fuck?  I’m not jealous, you’re just gross.”  He threw his slippers into his bag too forcefully and grunted when everything tumbled off the counter.

“Yeah, why would Yurio be jealous?” Leo joked, “He’s got Otabek.”

At that comment, everyone else turned to face Yuri or Otabek, depending on who was closer.  Otabek shrugged, but Yuri stopped picking up his things to sputter.

“Shut up, Leo!  Beka and I are friends and you can eat your own dick!”

Leo just shrugged. Viktor and Chris traded smug smiles while Georgi sighed longingly.

“Here,” Viktor said, “Let’s get your makeup off.  Can’t be going around London looking like that now can you?”  Yuuri tried to push his glasses up his nose, and cursed himself when he realized they weren’t there.

 

An hour later and they were in Trafalgar Square looking up places to eat on their phones.  Viktor suggested a pizza place a few blocks over, but they took their time admiring the lions and fountains.  The restaurant had dusty white wallpaper with lines of red and green vines crawling up it.  Each table had a small candle lit to compliment the dim lights.  The place practically screamed “date night,” and Yuuri was trying not to lose it.  He was visibly shifty by the time they ordered a pizza to share.

“Yu-uri,” Viktor said with a pout.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just, uh, nervous for our first date.”  It was obviously the right thing to say, the way Viktor’s face lit up.  Yuuri was probably blushing even harder now.  He still didn’t understand how someone could possibly be as attractive as Viktor.

“Hmm, so this is our first date?  I have to say I’m surprised you asked me.  I was going to try and take you to The Eye in a couple days, but you beat me to it didn’t you?”

Yuuri chuckled nervously.  “To be honest, I’m not a huge fan of heights.  Plus Phichit dragged me up there the last time we were here and it’s really not worth it.”

Viktor pouted.  “Is there anything else not worth doing here?”

“I’ve heard Stonehenge is disappointing?”

“That’s not even in London!”

Yuuri laughed this time.  “If you really want to ride on the Eye, we can.”

“No, although having you holding onto me as we got higher and higher wouldn’t be so bad,” he flirted back.

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t get clingy with heights, I get nauseous.”

Viktor’s playful expression dropped.  “Hmm.  Well, we can’t have you throwing up all over me.  What about Kew Gardens?”

“That sounds nice,” Yuuri grinned.  “I like flowers, and it sounds quiet.”

“You like flowers, huh?  Should I bring you a bouquet on Friday then?”

Laughing again, Yuuri said, “I’d never say no to flowers, but that’s a very unnecessary gesture.  I prefer them when they’re still in the ground.”

“What’s your favorite kind?  I’m rather partial to roses, myself.”

“Of course you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I don’t know,” said Yuuri.  “They’re classic, I guess.  Traditional and beautiful.  Maybe elegant is a better word.”  If Viktor had been upset before, it didn’t matter, because now he was practically beaming with happiness.

“Well what are you favorites?  In case I do decide to get you a bouquet?”

“Lilies.”

“Oh.”  Viktor made room on their table for the pizza as the waiter returned to set it down.  Just as they’d ordered, one half with basil and olives for Viktor, the other with peperoni for Yuuri.  “A lot of your compacts have lilies on them.  Was that on purpose?  I just assumed you got what was available.”

“Yeah, those were actually a gag gift from my sister.  My name is very similar to the word for lily in Japanese.  She used to tease me about it when I was younger.  She stopped when she realized I actually liked getting things with lilies on them.”  He let out a fond sigh.  "Then she started getting me things with poodles on them.  She made me a poodle yukata one year."  He grinned as he remembered it.  The thing had been hideous, but'd worn it till it frayed at the seams.

Viktor laughed too, and Yuuri had to bite his lip.  He liked making Viktor laugh.  Usually it was just chuckles, but sometimes Yuuri could get him to snort, and it was literally the funniest noise Yuuri had ever heard.  It was probably for the best that Viktor didn’t laugh too hard there in the restaurant.  Too public.  Yuuri liked to think that maybe that laugh was reserved for him, as selfish as it was.

 

“With all the stories you’ve told about your family, I can’t help but want to meet them,” Viktor sighed.

“They’re interesting, that’s for sure.  What about you?  You rarely talk about your family.”

“Ah.”  The mood immediately shifted from flirty and fun to somber.  Yuuri wanted to smack himself.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,” he tried to assure Viktor.

“No, it’s alright.  It’s not very fair of me to know all about your family and not tell you about my own.”  He cut off the tip of his slice of pizza, uneager to speak again.  “I don’t have any brothers or sisters, and if I have any cousins or uncles or aunts, I don’t know of them.  Father was an engineer and Mama stayed home.  Neither were too fond of having a flamboyantly gay child.”

“Viktor, you don’t ha—”

“It’s alright.  They never hurt me or anything like that.  But Father did leave us.  And Mama wasn’t interested in raising a child to begin with.  I don’t talk about them much because we don’t really talk.  Once they shipped me off to Yakov’s when I was fourteen, I wasn’t their problem anymore.”

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have pried.”

“Honestly, you were going to ask at some point.  No reason to hide it.”

They ate in silence for a few awkward minutes.

 

“I um,” Yuuri stuttered.  “I uh, got you something for your birthday.  I mean, everyone helped, you knkow, especially Yurio, but they said I should be the one to give it to you, so uh—”

“Oh.  You didn’t need to go to the trouble!”  Despite his words, he took the package Yuuri offered him.  It wasn’t nicely wrapped, since apparently not a single dancer in the company knew how to fold paper properly.

Yuuri fidgeted in his seat.  “It wasn’t trouble, everyone thought it was a good idea, I don’t know.”

Viktor laughed a little as he pulled the tissue paper off.  Then, looking down at the cover of the book, he got quiet.  He slowly opened it and flipped through the pages, expression unreadable.

“Viktor?"

“Did you…everyone?”

“Yeah.  Everyone made a page.  Even Yakov and Lilia.  Emil too.”

Viktor licked his lips and laughed again.  It was shaky.  “This is.  I think this is the nicest gift…”

“It’s not really—”

“Yuuri.”  Viktor finally looked up, tears in his eyes.  “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever gotten me.”

“It’s just a scrapboo—”

Viktor’s hand shot out to take his.  “The nicest.”

“O-okay.”

“Thank you.  Oh, I think I found Yurio’s page.”

Yuuri struggled to contain his laughter.

 

“Oh, he is going to get it the next time I see him!  Look!  Look how mean he is to me!”  Viktor flipped the book around to show Yuuri, who was already well aware of how Yurio had decorated the page.  Magazine cut outs of dinosaurs with Viktor’s hair on their heads stared back at him.  “I’m not that old!”

“Old for a danseur.”

“Maybe.  But I’m not a dinosaur.  Oh, and he started his letter, ‘Dear Old Man.’ How charming.  You made a page too, right?”

“W-well, yeah, but it’s not as nice as Mila’s or Chris’s!”

“Hm.  Well that doesn’t matter.  I’m sure you’re just selling yourself short again too.”

“Viktor, maybe, uh, don’t read it in front of me?”

“Huh?”

“Th-the anxiety.  Can you wait till I’m gone?  To read it, I mean?”

“Oh, yeah.  Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be.  It’s just.  It’s embarrassing.”

“Okay.”  Viktor brushed his thumb over the back of Yuuri’s hand, then retracted his arm so he could close the book and set it in his lap.  “Did you see Yurio’s triple pirouette in today’s fight scene?”  Viktor strategically changed the subject, and Yuuri grinned in thankfulness.

“No, actually.  I was too busy trying to get to my marks.  Chris and Georgi are almost always late on that catch.”

“Well, then you probably missed Guang Hong and Leo’s barrel turns.  They were perfect.  Well, almost perfect.  They could have been higher in the air, but they’re still young.  Not fully developed.”

Yuuri grinned into his next bite of pizza.

 

~

 

_Dear Viktor,_

_It seems like you and I met ages ago.  You’ve always had such a positive air about you, a winning attitude I think they call it.  When I was just a young thing, still a natural blond, you made it a point to seek me out and discuss my future with me.  You made me believe that joining the Prix Company was an attainable goal. I was content at being the best in a small company.  But then you, young, beautiful, and dripping with talent, told me I could be better in a bigger company, and I couldn’t ignore it.  At the risk of sounding too sentimental, I can safely say, if it weren’t for you, I don’t think I’d be here today.  Every time we perform together, I am reminded of why I joined the company.  I remember all our nonsense and pranks fondly, although I think hiding all of those mice in Yakov’s office drawers might have taken a few years off his life.  There is a proverb in Switzerland that goes “to be a fool at the right time is an art.”  I have never met someone more artful than you, my friend, and certainly your foolishness is only remembered fondly._

_Your brother, Christophe._

_~_

 

_Dear Old Man,_

_You better not kick the bucket before I reach the seniors.  As much as it pains me to say it, I need you and your guidance to get better.  I’m not looking forward to getting all gangly and clumsy like Leo, but I figure you know what it’s like to look like a gremlin, so who better to teach me how to get it out of my system?  I guess I still kind of look up to you, even with your horrible fashion sense and your insistence on being gross in public.  Thanks for everything you’ve done for me so far.  But you still owe me._

_Yurio_

_PS How do you get boys to like you?_

_~_

 

_Viten’ka,_

_I have considered you to be like a son to me for several years now.  I understand that I am not the most maternal figure, but I wish to assure you of my affection for you.  You have been the central pillar of this company for so long that I cannot remember what it was like before Yakov brought you in fourteen years ago.  I must admit, you have had your moments.  I was furious at the time, but looking back on it, when you asked for a bathroom break during class that one day, and came back an hour later with a family of hungry ducks following you into the lobby, I should have known you would become the kind hearted, selfless man you are today.  I am honored having been a part of your life so far._

_Much Love, Lilia_

_~_

 

_Viktor!_

_You’re getting so old! When are you retiring?  I hope it’s not anytime soon, because I would hate for this shitty sprained ankle to keep us from dancing together during your final season.  Also, how is it fair that I’m al young and energetic and full of life and sitting out with an injury, and you’re old and grey-headed, and chasin’ tail onstage like a teenager, huh?  No fair at all.  Yura thinks you’re gross, but I think you’re a big old softy who’s too intimidated by a certain someone’s pretty face to do anything about it!  You both claim you haven’t gone at it yet, but if you haven’t by the end of spring season, I’ll eat my pointe shoes.  Neither of us want that so you better hurry up old man!!_

_< 3 Mila_

_~_

 

_Viktor,_

_Happy Birthday.  I consider you to be a kind of older brother for the company, and I must thank you for you careful guidance over the two years we have known one another.  You carry your responsibilities with a smile, and I find your optimism to be an admirable quality._

_Otabek_

 

_~_

 

_Vitya,_

_You’ve been killing me slowly for fourteen years.  I’ve never been more proud of almost being dead._

_Yakov_

 

_~_

 

_Dear Viktor,_

_You haven’t known me nearly as long as I’ve known of you.  When I was little, I wanted to be you.  You were a joy to watch on stage, and your presentation made me understand why ballet is an art.  As I got older, I realized I could never be you, but I could be like you.  When I had bad days at school or my anxiety made it hard to breathe, I would watch you dance.  I thought of giving up sometimes, but then I remembered how much I still had to learn.  Now that we are dancing together, I realize I don’t want to dance like you.  Dancing with you is too much fun for me to want anything else.  Thank you, Viktor, for leading me to you._

_Yours, Yuuri_

  

On Yuuri’s page, there was a picture from Viktor’s first performance in the Prix Company posed nicely in B plus and hands on his hips.  Next to it was a picture of Yuuri, young and fat, with his arms stretched out awkwardly in a very silly-looking third position.  Underneath these two pictures was one from one of their performances in Russia.  They were wrapped around one another, Yuuri’s hand cupping his chin, Viktor’s arms around Yuuri’s waist.  It seemed as if there weren’t any other dancers on stage, the way they were looking at each other.  Viktor’s heart clenched as he looked at the pictures together.  He closed the book, then slid it under his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week is America!! and that means Phichit!!!


	17. Chapter 17

Upon waking up, Yuuri was very, very aware of two things.  One, he was not in his apartment back in Russia, nor was he sharing a hostel room with company-mates.

‘Phichit’s place,’ his mind supplied.

Two, his dick was hard enough to cut diamond.

 

He was twenty-four, much too old to wake up with a pitched tent, but here he was, sporting a boner in his best friend’s crappy New York apartment. Groaning, he rolled off the couch and waddled through Phichit’s bedroom to the bathroom as quietly as he could.  Phichit was still snoring softly in the darkness, and if Yuuri was careful about this, he’d still be asleep when Yuuri stepped out of the shower.  He closed the door with a quiet click, and began quietly trying to calm his anxiety as he tried to figure out how to work the shower.

He stepped in, desperately trying to ignore his dick, but he knew it was going to be a losing battle.  Experience told him that he’d still be “standing proud” even after a thirty minute shower, and sure enough, he was.

So he sighed, weighed his options one last time, and wrapped a hand around himself.  He tried to keep it perfunctory, like he usually did.  He was only doing it because he couldn’t go out in public with a hard on, and this was the quickest way to deal with it.  That was it.  Sure it felt good, but that was not the goal.  Obviously.

But then his mind began to wander.  As it always did.  Soon he was thinking of someone else’s hand around him, moving shakily.  And that person might have had very pale hands.  And gray hair.  And a thick Russian accent when he spoke English.  Sometimes in Yuuri’s fantasies, he didn’t speak English.  Instead he’d ask questions Yuuri didn’t understand in Russian or coo at him in French.

Yuuri let out a stuttering breath and leaned his shoulder against the cool white tiles lining the wall.  It didn’t need to be weird anymore, Yuuri thought for a half second.  Viktor had admitted to being physically attracted to Yuuri, so who was to say that Yuuri hadn’t stared in some of _Viktor’s_ shower-time fantasies?  The thought made Yuuri bite into his free hand to keep quiet.  His busy hand sped up a little, as he imagined Viktor thumbing at the head, pressing kisses against Yuuri’s neck and biting at his earlobe.

 

Yuuri’s legs twitched, and he could feel his blood pressure drop, so he knew he was close.  He always finished faster when he had imaginary hands and lips on him, but this was ridiculous.  Maybe it was because Viktor had told him there was an actual chance it could happen.  Yuuri didn’t know, and he didn’t care.  He wanted this over as quickly as possible, he told himself.  He tried to keep his breathing even as he thought of Viktor kneeling down in front of him, opening his mouth, and leaning forward to take Yuuri’s dick between his lips.  God, Yuuri had quite a few more fantasies about those lips.   Yuuri was almost disappointed that the sensation of his hand didn’t change even as Viktor took him down to the hilt in his mind.  There was a chilling sensation in the pit of his stomach that soon turned to warmth.  If he could keep this up, he’d be done in less than two minutes.  So he moved his hand faster, adding a slight twist.  Yuuri didn’t know if it would be more satisfying for Viktor to choke in his eagerness to swallow around Yuuri, or for Viktor’s throat to just let Yuuri in.  He panted out against the hand in his mouth and shuddered as he thought about Viktor looking up from his place on his knees.  Viktor was always so eager for people to compliment him, would he be the same in bed?  Would he say Yuuri’s name eagerly?  Would Viktor beg?

That was the thought that did it.  Yuuri stifled a grunt as his hips jerked.  He kept his hand moving on his dick to draw out the last dregs of his orgasm, then pressed his forehead against the wall.

 

He cleaned himself and the shower up and turned off the water.  His ear were a little stuffed up from the heat and exertion, but thankfully his legs held up, and he had no problem drying himself off.  He stepped out of the bathroom, only to see Phichit grinning from his bed.

“So I take it you and Viktor haven’t slept together yet?”

“Oh, fuck off!”

Phichit just cackled from under his covers.

“I hate you so much.  I’m not making you breakfast.”

“Ah, Yuuri!  Come on!  This isn’t the first time I’ve called you out on jacking it!”

“Yeah, well—”  Yuuri didn’t actually have a good come back for that.  He could feel his chest flushing.  Wrapping his towel tighter around his waist, he fled the room.

 

~

 

“Phichit, no.”

“Phichit, yes!”

“Absolutely not,” Yuuri hissed at him.  “You are not coming to tech rehearsal with me.  You’ll only try and embarrass me.”

“Aww, that’s not true!  I want to offer you pointers!”

“Liar.”

Regardless of Yuuri’s very obvious attempts at getting Phichit to return home, they were already half-way to the David H. Koch Theater.

“Come on!  I might never get a chance to meet Viktor ever again!”

“I doubt that.  I’m sure he’d make it a point to see you.  I think he talks about you almost as much as he talks about Makkachin.”

“Oh, are you jealous?”

“Of what?”

“That he talks about me more than you?”

“Wh-Well, actually no.  It makes it feel like you’re in Russia with us, even though I’m so bad at…you know. Keeping in touch and stuff.”  He tried not to sound embarrassed, but the absentminded tug at his bangs gave him away.

 

“Aww, Yuuri, that’s really gay!”  Phichit knocked shoulders with him.

“Yeah, well.  You’re one to talk.  How’d things go with that other guy in the company anyway?  What was his name again?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.  Phil.  He was blander than your curry.  Dumped him after the second date.”

“My curry’s not bland!”

“It is to me.”

“You’re biased!”

“And you could stand to learn how to use a chili pepper.  But hey, no one’s perfect.”

“I don’t even know why we’re friends,” Yuuri grumbled.

“Because if we weren’t, you’d be stuck in a tiny hotel with a bunch of other sweaty men, and you’d be getting lost on your way to the theater.”

“It’s not that hard to find.  It’s literally right there.  Plain sight.”

Phichit pouted at him, pursed lips and all.  “Yeah but what if you got mugged, huh?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes.  “I doubt that happens often.”

“But what if it did, Yuuri?  You can never be too careful!”

“And how would you protect me?  Cry on the guy until he’d leave?”

“Tears can be very convincing.  Speaking of which, I think I’m crying off my eyeliner already.”  He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to pull out his phone and swipe to the camera.  Yuuri let out a long-suffering sigh.

 

“You’re _not_ coming into the theater with me.”

“Uh, excuse you, you are a guest in my home.  I can do whatever I want.”

“We’re not in your home.”

Phichit pointed at the theater, not taking his eyes from his phone.  “I live there.”

Yuuri huffed.  He couldn’t exactly deny that.  Phichit had probably spent more time in that glass cheese box of a theater than he had in his own apartment over the last season.

“Fine.  But you have to _promise_ me that you won’t disrupt rehearsal.  I mean it Phichit!”

“Yeah, yeah, gotcha pal!”

“And you keep your embarrassing stories of me to a minimum!”

Phichit pulled his head back, giving himself a double chin, and gave the signature, “where’s the fun in that?” noise that only spelled trouble for Yuuri.

“And you can’t tell the one about the company sleep over when we were juniors.”

“What?!  Yuuri, that’s a classic!”

“No.  And you definitely can’t talk about the first time you met my parents.”

“That’s not even embarrassing for you!  They walked in on _me_ , not you!”

Yuuri glared at him.

 

“Fine, fine!  I mean, I already told him about the New Year’s party two years ago.” Phichit shoved his phone back into his coat and walked the last half block to the theater pursing his lips.  Yuuri groaned, trying not to think about what other stories Phichit had already let slip.  He pushed through the glass doors with Phichit right on his heels.

“Why would you tell him about that?”

“Well, he was telling me about the time he and Chris got drunk and fell through Mila’s shower curtain, so I felt like I had to tell him a bathroom-related drunk story!”

Yuuri glared at him.  “You are literally the worst.”

“And you love me anyway!”  Well, Phichit wasn’t wrong there.  Although he reveled in embarrassing Yuuri, Phichit was just a good person.  He never made Yuuri feel like an idiot, or like he wasn’t good enough, and when Yuuri wasn’t wrapped up in his own head, Phichit and he had ridiculous amounts of fun. 

When they finally got back stage, Yuuri made sure it was okay for Phichit to sit in the audience and watch.  He’d kind of hoped that Yakov would tell him no outside companies allowed, regardless of their tenure at the theater.  Unfortunately, Yakov had dismissed the concern, saying, “The boy is saving us quite a bit of money by putting you up.  He could join in rehearsal for all I care.”

Yuuri silently begged Yakov not to say such things, lest they become a prophecy, but neither God nor Yakov heard him.  Halfway through Chris and Yuuri’s first pas, Phichit had made his way from watching silently in the empty audience to giggling with Mila offstage to putting down tape onstage for Yakov.

 

“Your friend seems like a good time,” Chris noted with a no small amount of amusment.

“He’s literally only doing this to make me nervous.”

“That’s how you know he’s a friend,” he joked.

“You’re not wrong, I guess,” Yuuri sighed back.  “He straight up told me last night that the entire time I’m over, he’s going to be roasting me to make up for lost time.”

“He must really love you,” Chris said clapping Yuuri on the shoulder.  “Speaking of, have I told you about the time I gave Viktor those laxative gummy bears?”

“What?!”

“He was on the toilet for two whole days.  Hilarious.”

“Oh my God,” Yuuri snorted.

“Katsuki!  Stop fidgeting!” Yakov yelled from the front of the stage.  “Tape their place, boy,” he called to Phichit.  And half a second later, there was a bright green strip of tape marking their position for later.

“Yuuri, your posture’s bad,” Phichit said a little too loudly.  “Tuck your hips!”

“You heard him,” Yakov called.

Yuuri’s jaw dropped.  “We aren’t even marking!”  Phichit snickered and flitted back into the wings.

“Doesn’t matter,” Yakov said as he glanced back down at his notes.  “Keep your hips tucked.”

And if Phichit was insufferable during rehearsal, it only got worse once Viktor finally showed up.  Yakov had given him and Georgi an earful for being late, but both of them shrugged it off.

“Phichit!” Viktor had exclaimed, pushing past Yakov.

“Viktor!”  They gave a hearty handshake and began giggling about something.  Yuuri could have strangled both of them.

 

~

 

“Oh, you gotta watch this one,” Phichit clicked on another video.  Viktor grinned stupidly as Yuuri’s face came into focus on the phone screen.  “He was absolutely wasted this night.  Watch.”

As if Viktor could do anything but watch.  Yuuri was sprawled out on the ground, a deodorant roller clutched in one hand, mumbling to himself.  Phichit’s voice came though, asking, “Hey Yuuri, you okay?”

“I’m fuckin’ awful!”

“Yeah?  Why are you awful?”

“You made me watch Moulin Rouge, and you knew it was sad.  You knew!  And you still made me watch it!  I fuckin’…fuckin’…”  He sighed and draped his arm over his face so his nose poked out from the crook of his elbow.  His glasses had been skewed, but now they were barely hanging off his face.  “They could have been so happy!”  He brought the deodorant up to his mouth and began singing into it.  “Come what may!  I will love you!  Until! My dying day!”

 

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you, Yuuri!”

“Not you,” Yuuri snapped.  Not…not you.  I hate you.”

“Then who are you singing to?”

“No one.  I don’t love anyone.  I’m a bad bitch.”

“Sure you’re not singing to a certain Russian god of ballet?”

“Fuck!  Off!”

“No need to be shy, Yuuri!”

“I’m not being shy!  It’d be weird to be in love with Viktor.  Don’t know him.”

“That’s very mature of yo—”  The camera began shaking as Phichit scrambled to where Yuuri was.  “That’s my deodorant!  You can’t eat it!  Yuuri!”

 

Viktor was covering his grin with his hand, joyfully shocked.  He’d never seen Yuuri drunk before, so seeing all these videos of Yuuri cheerfully inebriated, if not prone to moments of melancholy, was quite a treat.  Also, if Phichit’s collection of videos was to be believed, he had a tendency to drunk dance, not that Viktor was surprised.  Viktor had seen a few videos of Yuuri and Phichit messing around an empty studio, both on the other side of tipsy, breakdancing of all things.  And doing rather well.  Too well, in fact.  Viktor couldn’t help the swell of jealousy rise up as he thought about it.  He’d never been much good at anything but ballet, and passable at tap.  Modern and Contemporary were alright too, but the craziest he got was Jazz.  Yuuri on the other hand, seemed right at home throwing himself into freezes of varying difficulty.  Then he’d seen them working on some swing and ballroom stuff, but both of them were useless at that.  Hell, Phichit had even shown him a video of Yuuri drunkenly agreeing to demonstrate some kind of traditional Japanese dance, all slinking footwork and sweeping arm gestures.

 

The worst part of it was that Yuuri was _good_ when he was drunk.  Maybe not as good as he was now, but he was more relaxed than when he and Viktor had first met.  He had that fluidity and confidence that Viktor had been trying to bring out for the last five months.  If he had known all it took was four vodka shots and a long island, he would have tried that from the beginning!

“Wait, wait,” Phichit grinned.  “You _gotta_ see this one.  He’ll kill me if finds out I showed you though, so don’t tell him.”  Viktor leaned in when he saw Yuuri in his underwear, obviously two sheets to the wind.

“Are you filming?” he slurred.

“Yeah, go for it!”

Yuuri took a few steps, the camera following him as he approached a pole.  And that was when Viktor realized he was wearing pointe shoes too.

“Oh my God,” Viktor whispered out.  He squinted, watching Yuuri’s feet as he releved and pas de chevaled.  “Oh my God.”

“I actually put this one up on my Instagram, but when Yuuri saw it the next day he almost cried, so I had to take it down,” Phichit said.

Yuuri finally took a step and actually swung himself up the pole with ease, locking his thighs around it and leaning back.  He managed to arch back so far that he could grab the pole in his hands, torso upside down, stomach muscles all stretched out.  Then with a flick of the legs that was too quick for Viktor to catch, he was wrapped around the pole and climbing again.

 

“Phichit, I think maybe I’ve seen this video before.”

“What, are you serious?”

“Yeah.”  Viktor swallowed thickly.  Yuuri’s feet had been familiar when they first started their pointe practices.  Viktor had been drawn to him during auditions.  Viktor must have seen the video while it was still up on Instagram.  Because if he had, then that meant that Yuuri’s next move would be a drop.  Sure enough, Yuuri did a dramatic drop from the top of the pole to the bottom, unwrapped himself, then pressed the box of his shoe to the floor and piqued away from the pole.  Then, on his shaky, weak ankles, Yuuri did a few flicks into coupe and fondued.  Viktor gaped as Yuuri finished his little combo with a few quick tight rond de jambs that looked like tiny steps forward.

“I remembered it because that was from my Puck choreography,” Viktor said softly.  “Not the pole dancing part, obviously, but the-the choreography.  And I wasn’t in pointe shoes, but.  I was very flattered.”

“Oh my God,” Phichit said to himself.  “Oh my God.  Did you…did you recognize him at the audition?”  He gave Viktor a searching look.

“No!” Viktor laughed out, running a hand through his hair.  “I didn’t recognize him at all!  I just thought he had a good carriage to him, you know?  And he bombed the audition anyway,” he replied with a wave.  “And then I found your videos everywhere, and well, now he’s here.”

“The dance world really is crazy small isn’t it?”  Phichit’s voice tightened as he said it, but Viktor wasn’t paying attention, too caught up in the coincidence.

“Yeah,” said Viktor, a little breathless.  He hit the play button at the bottom of the screen so he could rewatch the video.  God, Viktor had known Yuuri was a sensual force, but this was almost too much.  He watched intently, noting the extension of Yuuri’s legs and the arches of his feet. He didn’t know much about pole dancing, but it was obvious that Yuuri had had some kind of training.  He would have asked Phichit about it, had Yakov not begun screaming at him to get his ass on stage so they could get on with the rehearsal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hits the fuckin whip welcome to hell!!!! For all those asking about the pole dancing, it's back!! I hadn't forgotten about it, just drawing it out because I'm awful lmao Anyway, the rating is now Explicit, bc sex things are gonna slowly get more frequent <3
> 
> ALSO! A huge thank you to y'all, especially those who rec this fic to others??? It's honestly such a huge compliment to see things popping up on my tumblr? And thank you for the comments? And the bookmarks??? I'm in tears,,, even if you are too shy to comment or don't know what to say, thank you for reading UvU


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, if you don't joke about your buttholes with your friends, can you even call them your friends?
> 
> Also, I'm really sorry for a short filler chapter, but I've had kind of a rough week so it's just going to have to tide y'all over until next week,, U-U;;

By the lighting rehearsal, Phichit had essentially become a part of the Russian Prix Company.  In fact, he was probably more popular than anyone else in the company, much to Yuuri’s unsurprised displeasure.  He and Mila were joking and whispering to each other like old friends offstage.  Yakov was asking his opinion on lighting gels.  Hell, Lilia was taking his measurements!  None of that would probably have bothered Yuuri so much if Viktor hadn’t been acting weird over the last day and a half.  It wasn’t anything Yuuri could quite put a finger on, but there was something very resigned in his expressions.  If Yuuri didn’t know any better, it was almost like Viktor was suddenly afraid of him.  He’d seen Chris and Viktor speaking softly in the wings and approached them.  They needed to block their pas de trois for the lights, and Yakov was starting to steam out the ears with stress.  But as soon as Viktor caught sight of Yuuri over Chris’s shoulder, his posture changed immediately.

“Hey Yuuri!” He’d said.  “The trois?”

Chris had snorted, but winked at Yuuri.  Maybe it had to do with the tentativeness of Viktor’s posture, or his hesitance, or the way he tip-toed around talking to Yuuri.  Yuuri didn’t know.  He didn’t care.

 

“Viktor, what did Phichit say to you?”

“Wh-what?”  They were in one of the dressing rooms backstage, packing up for the night, and only a few other stragglers were still hanging around.  Viktor shoved his shoes into his bag and deliberately did not make eye-contact as he slipped his feet out of the holes in the bottoms of his tights.

“Phichit obviously said something to you, because you’ve been acting weird since yesterday.”

Viktor rubbed his arm nervously.  When he didn’t answer right away, Yuuri kept going.  “I’m assuming he told you embarrassing stories from wen we were in Detroit.  Just tell me which ones so I can go die quietly, will you?”

Viktor actually laughed outright at that.  “You don’t need to die!  He just, uh, showed me some videos that were pretty entertaining.”

“Oh, God,” Yuuri groaned.  That was even worse.  Who knew how many mortifying videos of Yuuri Phichit had on his phone?  “Which ones?”

“Mostly just ones of you very very drunk,” said Viktor.

“Shit.” Yuuri ran a hand through his bangs.

“My favorite was the Easter one.  I didn’t realize you were so familiar with the Bible.”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“What was it you said that was so funny?”

“I’m literally going to kill him.”

“I think it was, ‘I’m sure there’s something in the Bible about Jesus turning water into Absolut?’”

“I’ll force him to eat his hamsters and then kill him.”

“Aw, don’t be too mad at him.  You’re such a cute drunk!”

“Phichit’s a traitor, and you’re a liar.”  He zipped his bag up with a little more force than necessary.  “I’d appreciate it if you forgot everything you saw in those videos.”

Viktor muttered something to himself, but grinned and there his bag over his shoulder.  “He also showed me some of your dancing back in the company.”

Dropping his head, Yuuri sighed, “That’s even more embarrassing than the drunk videos!”

“Well, if anything, they made me happy because it reminded me of how far you’ve come.  You were good twos year ago, don’t get me wrong, but you’ve really improved since joining the Prix.”

“You do realize that’s just a very roundabout way of complimenting yourself, right?”

“Of course!  But my instruction wouldn’t have helped unless you were willing to listen and work hard.”

 

Yuuri grunted as they left the greenroom.  Now he was trying to remember all the embarrassing videos Phichit had of them dancing.

“But we should definitely drink together!” Viktor grinned.

“No thanks.  I try not to have more than a drink a night.”

“But you look like so much fin when you’re drunk!”

“Yeah, until I start crying.”  Really, the idea that he could be “cute” or “fun” when shitfaced was ridiculous.  He was a mess.  More of a mess than when he was sober, and only half as conscious of it.

“I’d make sure you didn’t cry,” Viktor said with a lilt.

“Really.  Not a good idea.  My anxiety gets bad the next day.”

“Oh.  Never mind then.”  And just like that, Yuuri felt every ounce of frustration and paranoia leak out of him.  Viktor had no idea how to deal with Yuuri’s anxiety, they were both aware, but the fact that Viktor listened when Yuuri told him he was pushing too hard made him feel so much more at ease.  Viktor was trying, and that was more than Yuuri had expected.

“Yuur?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted to grab a snack before we headed out the Statue of Liberty.”

“Oh shit, that’s today, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.  At three.”

“What time is it now?”

Viktor responded, “One.  Just enough time to grab something.”

“We’re in the middle of New York, so I’m sure there’s at least four Starbucks within a two minute walk from here.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Hurry up or I’ll eat all the pastries before you get there.”

They grabbed a coffee and a bagel each and chatted about trivial things.  Throughout the trip Viktor looked like he wanted to ask something, but he must have thought better of it, because he never got it out.  They made their way back the hotel everyone except Yuuri was spending the end of the season in.  Viktor took a shower while Yuuri waited in the room he was sharing with Chris, Georgi, and Otabek.  Chris and Georgi were sitting on one of the beds, bickering about something, so Yuuri took up residence on the free bed.

 

“Yuuri, what do you think?”

“Huh?”  He tore his eyes away from the ceiling.

“True love.  Is it real or not?” Chris asked.  Yuuri huffed and did his best not to roll his eyes.  “See, Georgi believes that it’s real and pure and perfect, but I’m still skeptical.”

“Just because you’ve had such hard times in love doesn’t mean true love isn’t real!” Georgi proclaimed dramatically.  Honestly Yuuri didn’t know what he expected from a conversation with these two, but he should have seen this coming.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve had some very nice hard times in love,” Chris purred back.  Georgi sputtered.

“I’m not sure what your definition of “true love” is, so I can’t really have an opinion,” said Yuuri.  He was an anxious, undesirable, pig of a teenager who had been too in love with ballet and Viktor’s technique to really entertain the idea of true love when most others were proclaiming it to each other.

“Well, you know, the whole “I love you more than life itself, and I would be anyone you want me to be” thing.”

Yuuri grimaced at that.  “I’m not sure that’s love.  Sound more like a desperate attempt at begin accepted.”

“That’s not true love!” Georgi protested.  “True love is when you’re willing to put another’s happiness and well-being above your own.”

“Well, that has its own problems, doesn’t it?” Yuuri sighed.  “What if you do something for their well-being that doesn’t make them happy?  Or vice-versa?  And what about your own happiness?”

“W-well!  Making them happy makes you happy.”

“That’s a nice sentiment, Georgi,” Chris said, “but I don’t think it’s all that realistic.”

“I’m not saying that there can’t be a relationship based on selfless, giving love.  I just think there has to be more than that.  There has to be communication and mutual respect, or else the relationship will end up lopsided, you know?”

“Hmm, very wise for someone so young,” Chris joked.

“It’s not wise, I’ve just…My parents are really good to each other, so I figure that’s what healthy love is really like.”

“Well!  Wouldn’t you say they have a kind of true love?”

“It’s more complicated than that.  Why the hell are we even talking about this anyway?”

“Anya told him he was being too clingy,” Chris shrugged.  “He got mopey, so I offered my adive and told him to break it off for good, and here we are.”

“Well, I’m not going to disagree with that,” chuckled Yuuri.  The bathroom door opened, and Viktor stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist.

 

“Disagree with what?”

“Apparently Anya and I aren’t good for each other,” Georgi said.

“Oh.  Well yeah, but I thought that was a given.”

Georgi wheezed in shock.  “Out of everyone here, you should be on my side!”

Viktor shrugged and dropped his towel.  Now it was Yuuri’s turn to make an unflattering noise.

“Like what you see?” Viktor winked back at him as he pulled a drawer open and began getting dressed.

“Give me some warning, next time!” Yuuri said as he hid his face in his hands.

“What’s the matter, Yuuri?  Not ready to see your boyfriend’s butthole?” Chris teased.

Yuuri’s face got even hotter, and he was sure he was visibly red by this point.  “We’re not…It’s just…”

“Oh, I guess we are boyfriends now, aren’t we?”

Yuuri groaned and fell back into the bed.

“Anyway, we’ve only been on two dates so if he’s not ready to see my butthole I guess that’s reasonable.”

“Will you two please shut up?” Yuuri groaned.

“Would you rather we call it something else?  I’ve read enough gay romance novels to have quite the arsenal of bad metaphors,” said Chris.

“For the love of Christ,” Yuuri said as he scramled across the bed towards the door.

“My personal favorite is furled entrance,” Chris laughed.

“I’m leaving!”

“Wait, Yuuri!”

“I’ve had enough!  I’ll see you all in the lobby!”

“Don’t leave without me!”  Viktor hopped on one foot, trying to get his pants on, but ended up falling onto the bed as Yuuri slipped out the door.

 

~

 

“Which videos did you show Viktor?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”  If Yuuri didn’t already know Phichit was lying, the over-enthusiastic smile would have done it.  He was sprawled out on his couch and held his tablet above his face

“He already told me about the drunk ones and the dancing ones.  You wanna fess up to any others before I dunk your phone in the toilet?”

“Yuuri!” Phichit complained, “It wasn’t anything too bad!  I didn’t mention the sleepover, just like you told me.  What more do you want?”

“I want you to throw out tea bags when you’re done with them.”

“But I can use them again!”

Yuuri eyed the small damp pile on the kitchen counter and rolled his eyes.  “You can’t.  And even if you could, you never do anyway!  Just throw them out!  And tell me which videos you showed him!”

“Yuuri!  You’re being mea—”  He yelped when he dropped his tablet on his face.

 

“Ha!  Karma!”

“That’s not even how karma works!”

“And you’re not even a real Hindu!”

Phichit’s jaw dropped. “Just because I like the way meat tastes!”

“You told me you were agnostic!”

“This is probably the point in time I should admit to being raised Buddhist, isn’t it?”

“Oh my God, you lied to me?!”

“I got the words confused!  I barely understood English at that point!”

“I’m tired of the lies, Phichit.  If that’s even your real name.”

“What can I ever do to earn your forgiveness, Yuuri?”

“Tell me what videos you showed Viktor.”

“What else can I do to earn your forgiveness?”

Yuuri laughed despite himself.  “You’re impossible.”

“I’m your favorite.”

“Not if you keep this up you’re not.”

“Fine, fine, here.”  He flipped the tablet so Yuuri could see the screen a little better.  “I showed him these three, this one and this one.  Along with some others.”

“Phichit.”

“These two and this one.”

“Why do you have a folder labeled ‘Yuuri Videos’?”

“And maybe one other one.”

“What other one?”

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

“No.  What did you show him?”

“You remember that video I posted to Insta a while ago?  From when you were really drunk?”

“The one from John’s party?”

“No, the one from the summer.”

Yuuri did a double take.  “The one from the summer?”  His voice rose about four octaves over the course of the sentence.

“…Of you pole dancing?”

 

Yuuri blinked, stalked into the kitchen, picked up the pile of tea bags on the counter, and slammed them into the garbage where they belonged.

“Yuuri!”

“I’m mad at you!  What the hell were you thinking!  No wonder he was so awkward during rehearsal!”

“No offence Yuuri, but I think it was probably more of, ‘Oh no he’s hot’ awkward than ‘he’s a sinner and I can’t be associated with him’ awkward.”

“Quiet, I need to think.”

“The more you think, the more panicked you’re gonna get.  You want me to go get Tubs and Flemming?”

“No! They don’t stay still for me like they do for you and having them crawling all over me isn’t gonna help.”

“They don’t crawl!  They scurry.  Rude.”

“Phichit!  Do you not understand what a crisis this is?”

“Not really no.  It doesn’t even matter that I showed him.  He’d seen it when it was up online. Hell, he even said it was flattering!”

“Flattering?  _Flattering_?  How the hell is that flattering?!”

“The steps you did were—”

“ _Shit_!”

“Deep breaths, Yuuri.  Come on.”

“I’m trying!”  He wasn’t on the verge of tears, but there was a chill crawling up his throat, which was not a good sign.  He took shaky inhales and stuttering exhales, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat.  Phichit stood with him and breathed with him.  It took about a minute, but when Yuuri was calm enough, Phichit spoke again.

 

“I am telling you one hundred percent on my life, pinky-promise realness, Viktor didn’t seem upset at all.  He almost looked like he was in awe, Yuuri.”

“It-It’s still embarrassing!”

“Then talk to him about it.  I’m sorry I showed him the video.  I should have known you weren’t ready for him to see it.”

“Damn right,” he snipped back.  “I’m going to delete everything in that folder!”

“No!” Phichit whined.  “What will I do when I miss you without the videos?”

“Call me?  You know, like a normal human being?”

“But what will I do without this masterpiece?”  Phichit clicked on a thumbnail to blow it up and again to play the video.  Yuuri watched in horror as both of them attempt to drunkenly shove the other out of frame.  Suddenly, there’s a yelp and the camera flips to the sky.

 

“Oh my God, is that when you fell down that manhole during spring season?”

“Yeah!”  Phichit was practically cackling, and the Yuuri in the video picked up the phone and began calling Phichit’s name.  The video ended with Yuuri shining a light the manhole and howling with laughter at Phichit’s confused expression.

“I also have the one of us crying over dogs that one time we day-drank.”

“Oh my God,” but Yuuri was more fondly exasperated tan upset now.  “Fine, you can keep the folder, but I’m still mad.”

“Fair enough.  I’ll make that omurice you like so much?”

“Forgiven.”

“Ah, I’ve missed this.”

“Me too.  Even if I hate you.”

Phichit laughed, “Yuuri!”


	19. Chapter 19

The performances in America were nowhere near as exciting as the ones in Spain.  There had been few tech issues, between curtains getting stuck and lighting cues lagging.  Other than that, there had been very little modification of choreography aside from what was necessary for smooth performances.  Leo had missed one of his entrances a few performances ago, but it hadn’t been noticeable, and one of Lyubov’s ribbons had come untucked the performance after that, but in Viktor’s opinion, it had all been rather boring.

“Yuuri…”

No response.

“Yu-uri…”

Still nothing.

“Yuuu-ri!”  He drapped himself over Yuuri’s back. 

“Oh my God, what is it?”

“Hi!”

Yuuri chuckled as he scrubbed his eyeliner off.  “Are you bored, Viktor?”

“Not when you’re around.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Yurio said.  He threw his slippers into his bag and aggressively zipped it shut.  “You two are literally the worst.”

“No need to be jealous, Yura.”

“I’m not jealous, I’m just tired of listening to you two flirting all the time.  I thought maybe that when you finally started dating, you’d stop being so disgusting, but it’s only gotten worse.”

“Not sure what your logic there was,” Yuuri grinned.  He leaned back into Viktor’s chest, turned his head, and gave Viktor a peck on the cheek, just to tease Yuri.  Viktor, for his part was overjoyed.

“Yuuri!” he practically squealed.  He pressed his face into the back of Yuuri’s neck, and Yurio made a gagging noise.  “We should go out tonight!”

“We have another performance tomorrow,” Yurio reminded them.  Slinging his bag over his bag over his shoulder, he called for Otabek.  “Don’t get so shitfaced you can’t perform.  Let’s get out of here, Beka.  I’ve had enough of these assholes.”  Beka nodded, then followed Yuri out of the dressing room.

“What do you say?”

“To going out?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Dinner?  A few drinks?”

“Okay.  I can ask Phichit for recommendations.”

“Fantatic.”  He pressed his own kiss to the side of Yuuri’s head.  “Text me when you have an address?”

“Will do.”

As it turned out, Phichit did have some recommendations, but not for anything classier than an Olive Garden.  They ended up at a tiny pub making up conversations for the other couples sitting in the visible booths.

“Don’t you dare touch my chicken strips!” Viktor filled in for one particularly disgruntled child.

“Sweetheart, if you keep eating that fast, you’ll choke!” Yuuri said for the mother.  “And as much as I’d love a vacation, I can’t handle a lawsuit right now!”

Viktor broke character with a snort, so he took a sip of his drink.  “That’s a bit morbid, isn’t it?”

“Says the man who made a heart attack joke four tables ago.”

“It was only three tables ago.”

“What can I say?  Beer makes me morbid.”  Viktor watched him swish the drink in his bottle with a languid wrist motion.

“Why do you think I prefer vodka and tonics?”

“That’s just because you’re Russian.”

“That’s like me saying you must like sake because you’re Japanese.”

“I do like sake.  I just like Shochu more.”

“Is this the first time you’ve drunk in front of me?”

“No.”

“No, I mean, drunk enough for it to affect you?”

“Maybe.  I figure you’ve seen Phichit’s videos, so it’s not like it really matters at this point.”

Yuuri wasn’t drunk, probably just on the other side of tipsy, but the easy smile and slight loll to his head made Viktor stare.  Yuuri was on his fourth beer of the night, while Viktor was only on his second vodka and tonic.  How Yuuri could handle that much carbonation in one sitting was beyond Viktor, but he had to admit he was impressed.

“Okay, what about that table?”  Yuuri nodded toward a table more behind Viktor than to the side of him.  He craned his neck around to get a better look.

It appeared to be a very unfortunate date between two dark-haired people.  Viktor couldn’t quite make out the details of the woman’s face, but her downturned lips told him she was not happy.

“I can’t see the guy’s face.”

“Neither can I.  She looks pissed though.”

Viktor squinted.  If he was a little closer, he’d actually be able to distinguish her dark eyes from her eyebrows.  “So how do we play this one if we can’t see his face?”

As if to answer Viktor’s question, the man began making large arm movements and speaking in a harsh tone.

“You always do this, Jessica!” Yuuri said in a comically low pitched voice.  “I can’t take you anywhere!  Why do you insist on talking about your friend’s sex life so often!  I feel like you love her more than you love me!”

“Maybe I do, Chad!” Viktor pitched his voice up.  “At least she listens to me when I talk about my deodorant routine!”

“It’s not that important, Babe!”

Viktor almost whipped his head around at that last word.  It sounded so strange coming from Yuuri, but Viktor couldn’t help but maybe wish Yuuri’s refer to him that way some day.

“It’s important to me, Chad!  If I don’t reapply every nine hours, I smell like onions!  Do you want me to smell like onions, Chad?”

“Babe, I’d love you if you smelled like shit!”

“Are you saying I smell like shit?!”

Yuuri snickered at that, so he took a hearty gulp from his bottle.  Their grins were cut short when the woman at the table slammed her hand on the table and stood.

“Oh no,” Viktor muttered.

“Huh?”

Throwing her napkin on the table, the woman started upbraiding the man across the table, then began storming away, unfortunately, towards Yuuri and Viktor.

“God damn it.”

“Oh shit,” said Yuuri as he realized.  Anya strode past their booth without even noticing them.

“Anya, wait!”  Georgi was chasing after her.  They both disappeared around a corner, leaving Yuuri and Viktor to gape after them awkwardly.

“I need another drink,” Viktor said pinching the bridge of his nose.  Knowing those two, they’d be back together before the end of the season, but Viktor really just wished they’d _end it_ already.  They weren’t good for each other, obviously, but for whatever reason they kept at it.  Had to be something said for their persistence, he mused.  He flagged down a server as she passed by and ordered another vodka tonic.  When she was gone, he glanced back at Yuuri, who was peering over the table at him with narrowed eyes.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m just trying to think about how to say this thing I’m trying to say.”

“Okay.”  Viktor leaned back against the creaky cream pleather of their booth and waited.  He was slowly getting used to Yuuri’s little quirks.  Sometimes, Yuuri just needed a minute to practice what he was going to say in his head.  He said it helped him make sure he didn’t embarrass anyone, but Viktor thought that maybe this time it had a little more to do with the alcohol.

“You need…” he started out after a few long seconds.  “You need to tell me if I do something that bothers me.”

“Alright.”

“No, like you need to tell me right away.  As soon as possible.”

Viktor glanced up when the server dropped off his drink, but otherwise he was focused on Yuuri’s words.

“I can do that.”

“Even if you think it’s going to hurt my feelings.  You gotta tell me.”

“Alright, Yuuri.  I will do my best to keep you aware of my feelings.”

“Sometimes I just get really self-centered with the anxiety and everything, so I don’t always know when I’m being rude, or making people upset.  And! Uh, and I’ll try and let you know if there’s something bothering me too.”  He rubbed a hand over his face.  “God, I am so sorry I made this dinner so awkward.”

Viktor laughed.  “It’s pretty much over at this point, you know?  And I do appreciate you bringing it up.  Especially considering what we just saw.”  He drained half of his drink, anticipating Georgi’s tearful return.  He’d always come to Viktor about his mess of a relationship, for whatever reason, not that Viktor had experience in _any_ of what Georgi was going through.

Sure enough, half a minute later, Georgi dragged himself back around that corner and accidently made eye-contact with Viktor.

“Vitya, what am I going to do?” he sighed with no prompting.  Viktor glanced at Yuuri, who was chugging what was left of his beer, then back at Georgi.

“Well, uh, what happened?”

“She said I’m too overbearing!” he practically wailed.  “She wants to take a break!”

Viktor did his best not to take a long sigh.  “Georgi, this isn’t the first time you’ve had this argument.”

“I know! But I’m not overbearing!  I don’t understand why she thinks that!”

Yuuri’s eyes went wide as he suddenly decided the tin of artificial sweeteners on the table was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” Viktor reminds his friend.  “You might be overbearing to her, and if that’s true, you either need to ease off, or find someone who can tolerate what she cannot.”

“How can I ease off if I’m not overbearing to begin with?”

“Georgi, you know I am not the one to ask about that.”  Viktor let out a long breath as Georgi’s lower lip quivered.  “Bring the rest of your food over here, and finish up with us.”

He flagged down another server for another drink.  Yuuri asked for another as well.  This bill was going to be outrageous.

~

“How are you two so perfect for each other?”

Georgi was watching them with critical eye as they walked down the snowy street toward Georgi and Viktor’s hotel.  Yuuri shrugged.  He was _mostly_ sober at this point, but Viktor was definitely at that “clingy drunk” stage he got to about half an after three consecutive shots.  He had one arm slung low around Yuuri’s waist, his thumb rubbing over Yuuri’s hipbone.  If Yuuri were completely sober, he’d probably have stopped that, but it felt too good, and he was getting drowsy at this point.

“Viktor’s out of my league.  I’m literally just grateful he tolerat—”

Viktor used his free hand to grab Yuur’s mouth.  “Yuuri, shush.  I’m in love with this man, Georgi.  He is literally the light of my life and I want to keep him around as long as possible.  I love him.”

Yuuri was definitely red now.  Luckily, the building lights weren’t bright enough for anyone to actually be able to tell.  “Viktor…”

“It’s the truth,” Viktor said defensively.

“I love Anya.  What’s the difference?”

“I think you both need to do some serious soul-searching and figure out what you value in a relationship and where your own faults lie,” Yuuri said as Viktor began nuzzling into his shoulder.  His hand started trailing away from Yuuri’s hip and slid into his pants pocket.

“But Anya’s perfect!”  
“You spent almost forty-five minutes telling us about how disconnected and distant she is.  She doesn’t sound perfect.”

“Well—” he stuttered, “She’s not…she’s not _perfect_ , but she’s perfect for me.”

“No one can be perfect for you,” Yuuri shrugged.  “Viktor, can you stand up straight, people are staring.”  He nudged his boyfriends jaw off his shoulder.

“Yu-uri!” he complained.  “I’m trying to get you to take advantage of me!”

Yuuri laughed at that.  “I’m not taking advantage of you tonight, Viktor.”

“Why not!”

“Because you’re ridiculous.”

Viktor pursed his lips for a moment, then broke into that silly smile Yuuri had grown so fond of.  “That’s okay,” he said, “I forgive you!”

Georgi clicked his teeth at them.

“Viktor is very aware that I’m not perfect, and I’m aware of Viktor’s faults as well.  We’re not really perfect for each other, but we’re working with each other instead of at each other, if that makes sense.”

“Not really.  Prepositions have never been my strongest point in English.

“That’s not really the point,” Yuuri muttered to himself.  “Again, I think you two need some time apart to figure out what’s really important to you, and if those ideas don’t line up, it might be best for both of you to move on.”

“I don’t want to move on from Anya.”

‘God, was this what it was like for others to deal with when he was in panic mode?’ Yuuri thought.  He’d have to be sure to thank his mom and Mari the next time he called home.  He glanced at the hotel coming up in a block and a half.  If he really tried, he could probably power walk his way there and cut this awful conversation short.  The again, with Viktor clinging to him the way he was and the slick concrete, anything faster than an amble would probably put both of them on their asses.  So he groans under his breath and steels himself to listening to Georgi whine for another ten minutes at least.

Luckily for him, Viktor kept them both pretty busy, trying to slide his free and up Yuuri’s shirt and tripping over his own feet every seven steps.

When they finally got to the hotel doors, all lit up glass and chrome, Yuuri made to give Viktor over to Georgi, but Viktor clutched at him tighter.

“Don’t make me sleep with Chris again.  Please, Yuuri.  He snores so loud.”

Yuuri tried desperately not to laugh, but it was just too funny.

“Take me home with you?”

“I’ll have to ask Phichit.  He doesn’t exactly have a lot of space.”

“I’ll take the floor.”

“Not with your back, you old man.”

“I’m not old!”  Viktor let go of him enough for him to send off a text to Phichit, and the response was almost instantaneous.

“Alright, I’m taking him to the apartment.  Have a good night, Georgi.  Try to get some sleep.”

“Thanks Yuuri.  You too.”

The bland gaze told Yuuri just how dejected and frustrated Georgi was, but there wasn’t much Yuuri could do.  He felt bad.  Not that bad, since he still had a little buzz in him, but still bad enough to make sure Georgi got to elevator without any problems.

“Is he gone?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri turned and continued walking in the same direction they’d gone to get to the hotel, pulling Viktor along with him.

“Good, now I don’t have to be so obnoxious!”  He took a deep breath and grinned.

“What?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he laughed, “I’m pretty drunk.  Like that was not an act,” he joked as he stumbled over an uneven section of pavement.  “But I didn’t”

“Are you serious,” Yuuri deadpanned.  He should have expected this.  “You’re awful.”

“You can’t make me sleep in a bed with Chris tonight.  Not combined with Georgi’s sobbing.  Phichit already said yes!”

“Yuuri rolled his eyes.  “Fair enough.  Knowing Georgi, he’ll probably keep everyone up for the next two or three hours with woeful tales about Anya anyway.  I wouldn’t want to do that.”

“I don’t either.  You know what I do want to do?”

“What?”  Yuuri was a little nervous about playing along, but he wasn’t expecting Viktor’s forward response.

“Kiss you.”

“Viktor!”

“I can’t help it!  You’re so hot all the time and you valiantly fought off the evil witch of failed relationships!  And I want to kiss you!”

“You’re drunk and I’m just coming off of it!”

“Is that a no?”

“I, uh, well—”

“Because that’s okay too, but I can’t say I’m not disappointed.”

To be fair, Yuuri knows he probably shouldn’t deny Viktor a kiss or two.  It was just… they hadn’t really gotten to that yet?  The farthest they’d gotten were occasional pecks to the cheek.  And then there was Viktor’s tendency to hug Yuuri from behind and press his lips into Yuuri’s shoulder, but that wasn’t _really_ a kiss.  Right?  Yuuri wasn’t realy familiar with how these things went, save for what he saw on TV, and he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the relationships he’d seen there, so.  He was a little out of his depth.

“It’s not a no,” he finally managed.  “It’s a not now.  We should both be sober for it.  I want use to both be sober for it.”

“Hmm.  Okay.”  Viktor was quiet until they reached Phichit’s apartment, where he knocked very loudly on the door, even while Yuuri fiddled with his spare key.

“Honey, we’re home!” Viktor called.

“Fantastic!  The popcorn just finished!”

“Popcorn?”  Yuuri looked between is friend and his…boyfriend.  Ah.  They had plotted this, apparently.  He plopped onto the couch, resigning himself to bad science fiction movies, and Phichit’s constant commentary.  He supposed it could be worse.  He could be back at that hotel room with Georgi.  He grinned at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week is the last chapter with Phichit as a main character! :((((( and after that, I'll probably be taking a break to plan out the Spring season with Elena and work on some other AU's so I hope this and the next chapter will be enjoyable for y'all mU-Um


	20. Chapter 20

“Yuuri, I swear to god if you don’t stop tagging me in random pictures, I’m going to block you.”

Yuuri snorted from his place on the couch.  He’d gotten back at Phichit for last night’s marathon by posting awful memes to Instagram and tagging Phichit in every single one.  He must have posted about seventeen images before Phchit realized, and then another twelve afterwards.

“Phichit, Phichit, look.”  He turned his phone so Phichit could see it from the kitchen.  He’d found the ugliest image of a proboscis monkey he could find.  He pointed at it, and said in complete seriousness, “That’s you.”

“Yuuri!”

 

Yuuri cackled as he posted the picture and Phichit scrambled to untag himself.

“You are literally the worst, you know that?  I’m just trying to help you bag a man, and this is how you treat me?”

“How is this any worse than that time you showed me Phineas and Ferb porn?”

“Yuuri, that wasn’t porn, that was _art_.”

“Ah, yes.  Because when I think of art, I think of Perry the Platypus in the throes of passion.”

“Are you still upset that Perry was on the bottom?”

“Yes!” Yuuri threw his hands in the air.  “Perry the Platypus is _not_ a bottom!  Doofenshmirtz is the obvious choice for bottoming in that relationship.”

“Doofenshmirtz has a daughter!”

“Well obviously he’s bi, Phichit!”  He lowered his voice, remembering that Viktor was still asleep in Phichit’s bed.  He covered his face, feigning frustration to hide his blush.  He and Viktor had crammed themselves into Phichit’s single last night, while Phichit had taken the couch, insisting that the “lovers spend some more quality time with each other.”  Then he had added, “But if I hear _noises_ , I’m setting the bed on fire with both of you in it.”

 

Of course they hadn’t done anything past getting comfortable, which ended up with them cuddling.  That had been nicer than Yuuri had been expecting.  He wasn’t someone who was huge on physical contact, but last night had been pretty calming.  Besides the fact that Viktor kept pressing his cold ass feet into Yuuri’s calves.

“Okay, okay.  Daughter and sexuality aside, why is Perry the top, huh?”

“He has so much control over himself.  He’s organized.  He’s aggressive.  He’s gotta be the top.”

“Have you ever heard of a power bottom, my friend?”

Yuuri couldn’t help the snort that came out.  “Perry’s not a power bottom.  You’re forgetting the physicality of the whole thing.  There’s no way Doofenshmirtz can fit his di—”

“Who’s Perry?”

“Viktor!” Yuuri yelped.

He was still shirtless, like Yuuri had left him, but he was standing in the door way to Phichit’s room.  “And why is he a bottom?”

“Oh my God,” Phichit said, snapping a picture.  Viktor smiled as best as he could.

“Is he one of your ex’s?”

“Holy shit.”

“Phichit, shut up.  I already told you I don’t have any ex’s of consequence,” he said to Viktor.

“If you say so.”  He didn’t sound entirely convinced, which was something Yuuri would have to address at some point soon.  “Yuuri, I’m hung over,” he whined.

“How are you hung over?  You were mostly sober before we went to bed.”

“Not everyone can down a keg and wake up fine the next day,” Phichit pointed out.

“That only happened like once.”

“Four times, Yuuri.  Four times.”

“Oh.”

“Ya.”

 

Viktor flopped onto the couch, meaning he flopped onto Yuuri’s legs, which was fine, if a little heavy.

“Don’t tell Yurio you’re hung over,” he said as he played with Viktor’s bangs.  Viktor hummed in agreement.  “If you need to go back to bed, you can.  We’ve still got a few hours before we need to be at the theater.”

“No, you’re out here.”

“Did you get a boyfriend or a new puppy?” Phichit giggled.

“You’ve asked that like every day since we got here!”

“And the question still stands.”

“I can be your dog if you want,” Viktor teased with a grin.  Yuuri slapped a hand over Viktor’s mouth before he could say anything else embarrassing.  He refused to acknowledge the blood heating up in his ears.

“Oh, kinky!” Phichit teased back.

As if to prove his point, Viktor licked the palm of Yuuri’s hand.  “Ugh, gross, Viktor!”  He wiped the traces of saliva off on Viktor’s cheek.  “You don’t need to be a dog, just be Viktor and we’ll take from there, yeah?”

“Yu-uuri!”  He nuzzled into Yuuri’s hand.  Another shutter sound came from the kitchen.

“If I didn’t love you two so much, I’d think you were disgusting!” Phichit laughed.  Figuring Phichit was uploading photos to Instagram, Yuuri sighed.

 

“You sound like a slightly happier version of Yurio.”

“He’ll probably come around once he out grows that teenaged angst,” Phichit shrugged. “Speaking of Yurio, how old is he, anyway?  Like twelve?”

“Fifteen,” came Viktor’s reply.

“Okay, yeah, so like twelve.”

Viktor narrowed his eyes in confusion.  He began counting on his fingers, digging his elbows into Yuuri’s upper thighs in the process.

“Fifteen doesn’t come after twelve right away.  He’s fifteen.”

“It’s an expression, Viktor.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Anyone under the age of seventeen is ‘like twelve’ to Phichit,” Yuuri explained.  “It’s a way of annoying them.  He does the same thing to anyone over twenty-five.”

“So I’m ‘like twelve’ too?”

“Nah, you’re like forty-two, right?”

Viktor scoffed, then looked to Yuuri, like Yuuri was a parent.  “He’s making fun of me!  Make him stop!”

Yuuri just shrugged, finally pulling his hand away from Viktor’s cheek to pat him on the head.

 

“Are you coming to the performance today?”

“Me?” Phichit clarified.  “Yeah, it’s my last full day in town, and Yakov offered me a great seat in the middle block.  He said I should audition for next year’s company.”

“He has no idea what he’s asking for,” sighed Yuuri.

“Oh, I know.  I think he just wants more tall guys.”

“You’re not tall, Phi.”

“I’m taller than Yurio.”

“Yurio still has growing to do.  I’ll bet he’s taller than you in a year and a half.”

“You’re on.”

“You’re still short.”

“You’re both short compared to me,” Viktor smiled.

“Yeah, and you’re short compared to Chris.  That’s why it’s easier for him to partner me.”

“He’s a taken man, if I may remind you.  As are you.  And he’s only three centimeters taller than I am.”

“Three centimeters makes all the difference.”

Viktor’s eyebrows rose as he lidded his eyes.  “I’ll remember that.”

“Gross!” Phichit laughed, snapping another picture.

“Will you quit!” Yuuri threw a pillow in Phichit’s direction.

 

~

 

Yuuri tried to calm his breathing.  He hated playing dead on stage.  It was obvious he wasn’t, since his chest was practically heaving after almost forty minutes of intense footwork.  He could hear and feel the curtains closing.  Chris nudged him with a pointed foot, a signal for Yuuri to stand.

“Fantastic, Yuuri!  Fantastic!” Viktor said as he grabbed Yuuri around the waist when he righted himself.

“You’ve said that every performance since Spain.”

“And it’s truer with each performance.”

Yuuri swallowed a laugh, patting Viktor’s hands.  “Leggo, we gotta get in place for bows.”

“I’m never letting go!”

“Oi!” hissed Yuri.  “Get the fuck off stage!  The curtain’s opening in ten!”

“Viktor!”

He pouted, but he let go of Yuuri, and swatted at his ass as they left for their separate wings.

 

“Blegh,” Yuri groused, tongue sticking out.  Guang Hong pulled him into position in an arc along the perimeter of the stage.  The curtains opened just as Yuuri made it into the wing.  He had maybe a minute of down time while the company and other soloists took their bows.

Viktor took the stage after Chris and Amelia and J.J., and he made a small flourish as he bowed.  He turned to face Yuuri in the wing with such a bright, genuine smile Yuuri felt himself fall in love all over again.  Viktor took his hand and led him on stage to thunderous applause.  As he took his first curtsey, he thought about how he’d probably never get over the sense of accomplishment that came with each successful performance.  There was something joyful about curtain calls that Yuuri just couldn’t put a finger on.  He curtseyed again, then grinned at Viktor when he led Yuuri backwards with a hand on his hip.  Once they had settled, they led the whole company two steps forward and took a collective bow.  Once they were back upright, Yuuri made a split second decision. 

 

He turned in Viktor’s hold, and placed a hand on the back of his head, pulling him down for a sudden kiss.

The audience exploded into wolf whistles and cheers.  Yuuri glanced backwards as he pulled away and saw the rest of the company applauding along.  Chris was laughing and J.J. was cheering enthusiastically.

Yuuri almost didn’t want to look up at Viktor’s face, afraid that he’d be upset, but he didn’t even have to, because as soon as Yuuri let go of his hair, Viktor hauled him into a lift and kissed him harder.  Viktor spun them around twice, not letting Yuuri pull away.  Not that Yuuri would have even thought of it, with the way Viktor’s lips felt against his.

Yakov was probably having an aneurysm off stage, Yuuri thought and pulled out of the kiss to laugh.

 

~

 

“You two are literally the most dramatic couple I’ve ever met, and I’m personally offended.”

“Don’t be jealous, Yurio.  I’m sure some day you’ll find someone willing to put up with your prickly exterior long enough to fall in love with you.”

“Fuck off, Viktor!”  Yuri sounded like he wanted to kick Viktor in the knees, which probably wasn't too off base.  “First I have to listen to Georgi complain about Anya all class, and then you two pull that shitty romance novel garbage on stage.  I’m going to throw myself into the orchestra pit.”

Yuuri blushed as he glanced at Viktor in the mirror.  There was lipstick smeared all over both their lips but there were streaks smudged onto Viktor’s cheeks and neck where Yuuri had kissed him.  Viktor looked like nothing could ruin his day.  Like he was proud of the tacky red marks.  Yuuri felt something possessive rise up in him, so he had to look away.

“Yuuri!”  Phichit barged into the dressing room, bouquet of roses in hand.  “You little minx!  I never thought you’d go for the P.D.A. route!”

“I-It was kind of spur of the moment,” Yuuri stuttered.

“Oh my God, you’re a mess.  Hold on.”  Phichit rummaged around in his back pocket, then pulled out his phone, and took yet another picture.  “You look so surprised!  This is great!”

“Phichit, don’t post that!”

“I won’t! I won’t!  Can’t have everyone know that the best ballerina in the world is actually a man, after all.”  He winked and Yuuri scowled.  “Anyway, here!  For you and your man.”  He shoved the bouquet into Yuuri’s hands.  “And I’m giving you the spare to my apartment.  Just lock up and shove it under the door when you guys leave for home.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“No problem.  But no sex in my bed.”

Yuuri gaped.

“If you two so much as jerk it in my bed, I will know and I will express ship a box of soiled wood shavings to your studio.”

“Phichit!”

“Shut the fuck up!”  Yuri threw a slipper at Phichit.  “Get out!  Why are you even here!”

“I live here, Yuri!”

“You do not!  Get out!”

“Yura,” Otabek chided.

“They’re being disgusting!”

“Oh, they’re just doing it because they know it riles you up,” Chris said from his corner.  He hefted his bag onto his shoulder.  “Just two more performances.  Can’t wait to dance something new.”

“You’re telling me,” Yuuri sighed.  As much as he loved performing, doing the same dances week after week after week did get a bit boring.  He loved _Carmen_ , but he was ready for something new.

 

“What is everyone doing with your two weeks’ vacation?” Leo asked.  “I’m staying here.  I mean I’m heading to Miami to see family.”

“I’m gonna sleep,” Yuri grunted.  “And play with my cat.”

“Masuri and I are going to France for a week.”

“Romantic!” Viktor grinned.  He was wiping his eye makeup off, but he was avoiding the lipstick marks.

“Hmm.  Everyone’s got plans.  I don’t know what I’m gonna do with myself,” Guang Hong sighed.  “Maybe I’ll go sightseeing in St. Petersburg.”

Viktor glanced at Yuuri in the mirror.  “What about you Yuuri?  What are you doing?”

“Don’t know.  Haven’t thought about it.”

“That means he’s gonna play video games until four in the morning and sleep until seven p.m.,” said Phichit.

Yuuri glared at him, but he wasn’t exactly wrong.  He set the roses down next to his bag and leaned down to untie his shoes.  “What about you, Viktor?”

“I’m going to be bothering you.”

“Oh,” Yuuri glanced up for a second, hoping Viktor didn’t see how red in the face he was.  “I’ll look forward to it.”

 

~

 

Phichit passed out on the couch for about four hours, then stumbled his way into a taxi.  Yuuri and Viktor hugged him goodbye at the curb, wishing him a safe flight and a good time in Thailand.  It was three in the morning by the time Yuuri and Viktor actually got to bed, smushing themselves back into Phichit’s bed.  Yuuri was the one clinging to Viktor.  He ran his nose over the nape of Viktor’s neck, enjoying the hum it earned him.

“If you keep that up, I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Hmm.  You smell good.”

Viktor responded by tangling his legs around Yuuri’s

“Ah!” Yuuri jolted.  “God damn it, Viktor!”

Viktor cackled as he rubbed his freezing cold feet against Yuuri’s shins.

“You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

Yuuri hugged him closer, pressing his face into Viktor’s shoulder.  “Yeah.  I do.”

Viktor went still.  For a moment, Yuuri regretted his words.  But then Viktor was rolling over to look at him.  There was so much adoration and openness in his eyes that Yuuri felt a lump rise in his throat.

“I love you too.  I love you so much.”

“Oh.”

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Yeah.  I’d like that.”

 

Viktor placed a soft kiss to Yuuri’s lips.  It was nothing more than a simple kiss, lips pressing against lips.  It wasn’t anything special, really, but Yuuri couldn’t help but sigh.  It was _Viktor_ kissing him.  The man he’d looked up to for half his life, the most talented danseur since Baryshnikov, and the silliest, most endearing person Yuuri had ever had the pleasure of getting to know.  He couldn’t help but break the kiss with a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Yuuri said.  “I’m just happy.”

Viktor grinned in the dark.  Tucking his head under Yuuri’s chin, he sighed into Yuuri’s chest.  “I’m never happier than when I’m with you.”

“Cheesy.”

“I’m your cheesy.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

Viktor responded by blowing a raspberry into Yuuri’s clavicle.  Yuuri struggled to push him away, but Viktor held onto him tightly.  They both sighed when Viktor stopped.  Yuuri closed his eyes and fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the Winter season!! Thank y'all for sticking with me and Elena for so long! I'm going to be taking a break to get the Spring season organized, so I probably will not be updating until sometime in mid June. I'm also thinking about changing my updates to Monday's or Tuesday's? Let me know what y'all think...  
> I'm also in the midst of plotting out two other YOI fics, as well as working on a BigBang fic for another fandom, plus I'm working on like, four different cosplays lmao. So I might be uploading another fic sometime between now and the next update. But I'm curious, would y'all rather see a Drag Race AU or a Regency Era AU? Both would be comedy based, but I have no idea how long either would be. And I wouldn't be updating weekly like I usually do with this fic. Anyway, a huge thank you to everyone who's commented, recommended this fic, or talked about it with friends! You can reach me on tumblr [here](http://bastetcg.tumblr.com/)  
> And if you're looking for scraps and updates, or want to show me something ballet/yoi/this fic related, I track and post to the tag #yoifondue
> 
> PPS I literally did not realize how short Phichit was until I wrote this chapter holy shit he's 165cm, which is 5'4" He's literally like and inch and a half taller than me he's so small I'm losing my mind

**Author's Note:**

> [pirouette](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fm-XZCi9skQ)  
> [tour en l'air](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVN9als2atU)  
> [sit lift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aZo37GsvT5M)  
> [petit jete](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pdtrLn6ByE)  
> [fouette](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fo250jmBl6I) (We reference the turns, at the beginning of the video)  
> [chasse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjFbdeKL7lw)  
>  Spotting refers to the practice of looking in one direction (the spot) and whipping one's head around to continue looking in that direction as a way to maintain balance during a turn, as well as help the dancer get all the way around in the turn  
> Barre refers to both the wooden poles lining a dance class, as well as the beginning section of a dance class focused on stretching and strengthening leg and arm muscles  
> Adagio means slow in music, and in ballet it refers to a combination usually right after barre. It is a slow combination, usually involving long periods of holding positions and balancing.  
> Petit Allegro refers to the section of ballet class that involves small jumps, such as petit jetes. beats can be added to these jumps to increase the difficulty.  
> To beat a jump, or add beats, means to bring the legs together in mid air before the landing. You can see some examples of jete's with beats [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Na0sOEnTy6I) , as well as brise's (bree-ZAY), another kind of beated jump found in petit allegro combinations.


End file.
